Dark Frontier
by dstrekharrylover
Summary: This story brings the Dark Shadows and Classic Trek casts together in a story of romance and the supernatural.


(Dark Shadows-Star Trek A/U crossover)  
_**Dark Frontier **_

_By JM Lane_

James Kirk couldn't believe that Starfleet Command could actually be serious about sending the _Enterprise _all the way back to Earth--a full fifteen parsecs out of their way--to investigate a series of mysterious deaths and disappearances, all said to have been caused by supernatural means. Just what that means was, the Captain could not have said; he knew only that to believe in the supernatural in this day and age was the next thing to absurdity.

And it was a cinch that if _he_ held this opinion, Spock and Bones would as well. Unfortunately, it was their duty to investigate the deaths, however they had come about, and do their best to make sure that no more lives were lost. He frankly dreaded having to brief them on the subject, but it was necessary, so he might as well get it over with. He reached for his shipwide command intercom to summon his First and Science Officer as well as his CMO.

"Kirk to Spock and McCoy. Report to me in my quarters immediately."

"My God, Jim, has Fleet Command gone totally screwy or something?" McCoy demanded, exasperated even more than he usually was--and that was saying something. "They're sending us fifteen parsecs out of our way to investigate some deaths _supposedly _attributable to supernatural causes?"

"They can't explain them any other way," Kirk returned. "And it's our job to see that there are no more, whatever we have to do--no matter how far-fetched and impossible we may think it is," the Captain finished.

"Haven't you got anything to say about this situation, Spock? You're usually the first to speak up," the Doctor remarked, surprised at the Vulcan's uncharacteristic reticence, even for him.

"I did not believe there was anything relevant to say," the First Officer replied coolly.

_That never stopped you before, _the Doctor couldn't help thinking, but remained silent, returning his attention to Kirk. "When are we supposed to arrive at Earth, Jim?"

"At 1700 hours tomorrow," the Captain informed him. "Admiral Komack has even made reservations for us at the Collinsport Inn."

"How generous of him," McCoy returned dryly. "Where the hell is Collinsport?"

"It's in Maine, on the East Coast, about an hour's drive from the state Capitol of Bangor. I think Komack said it was fairly small, roughly 1700 population," Kirk elaborated. "It was named for the Collins family, prominent citizens of the area since the 18th century. In fact, that was when the city was founded."

"Did the Admiral give any estimation of how long it would take to accomplish the mission, Jim?" the First Officer inquired of his CO and closest friend.

"Depends on how long it takes to catch whoever's been killing people," Kirk told him.

"Or _what_ever," McCoy finished. "What if the rumors are true and the killer _is_ of supernatural origin? Remember what happened with Redjac, how he not only possessed Scotty and killed all those women on Argelius II, but almost destroyed us all when he took over the ship's life support systems."

Kirk barely suppressed a shudder at the thought. "Thank God you had that strong tranquilizer." The Captain sighed and stood up to stretch after rising from his seat at the Briefing Room table. "But all we can do now is wait and hope for the best. Good night, Bones; make sure to tell Christine to report also--and Spock, contact Security and have our best two Security people, one male, one female, report for duty as well…Dickerson, maybe, or Leslie—then Davidson, the top female Security officer."

"Yes, sir," the other two said almost simultaneously, privately wondering just why the Captain wanted one Security officer of each gender, but figured Jim must have a good, if not logical, reason. He usually did.

Either way, this mission was likely to prove, if not the trickiest, the most unusual (even terrifying) one they had ever been on, if even half of what the rumors said was true. Kirk could not have spoken for his two friends, but he himself was frankly _not_ looking forward to this mission…not one damned bit. He would have denied it had anyone suggested it; neither could he have said just why--but he was scared at the prospect of going to Collinsport. Scared as all hell…and getting more so by the minute.

The ship arrived half an hour before they were due to beam down, as was their custom, to give the landing party time to retrieve any needed equipment and assemble before transport down to the Inn. The Transporter Chief had been given the coordinates which would put them just outside the aforementioned establishment. All they had to do then was walk up a short flight of stairs, then automatic doors would open to admit them.

Spock and the Security people, Andrew Dickerson and Elaine "Lani" Davidson, as she was known to her friends, were patiently waiting for the rest of the landing party to arrive. They didn't have long to wait. Kirk came in first, followed by the two Medical Officers, McCoy and Christine. All carried travel bags, and the latter two medical paraphenalia, including medikits and tricorders.

"Well, Bones, are you ready?" Kirk asked as everyone assembled on the transporter platform preparatory to beaming down.

"No, but you wouldn't let that stop you," McCoy groused. "Besides, somebody's got to go and keep a medical eye on you, what with your and Spock's penchant for going in where angels fear to tread."

"Stay here, then. Christine can look after us."

"Not even Christine could handle you two alone," the CMO retorted. A moment later, before Kirk had time to draw breath for a reply, the six members of the party dissolved into gold shimmers and were gone.

They materialized in front of a building which looked as though it had been plucked right out of the 19th century. A fancy wooden scrolled sign painted in green and gold with "Collinsport Inn" depicted in black Old English lettering hung on two hooks, a wooden pole with a curved beam sticking out over a green, well-tended lawn. The sun was well down and the shadows were beginning to lengthen as the party made their way up the short stairway to the door.

As they stepped inside, Christine saw a tall, dark and ruggedly attractive man in a dark, high-collared, tiered and floor-length cloak standing nearby. What little she could see of his clothing otherwise was a well-tailored navy blue or black suit and tie with a white shirt. She then turned back to follow the others to the desk for check-in. As they reached it, a warm, pleasant and cultured male voice with a touch of a British accent spoke to her.

"That suitcase looks heavy, my dear. Will you allow me to assist you?"

Christine looked up at him; his eyes were a warm brown and he had a sallow, almost olive complexion, similar to Spock's. The bangs of his black hair were situated in several points slanted across his forehead.

"It's very kind of you to ask, but I can handle it," she said with a smile. She didn't notice Spock turning his head in her direction and raising one questioning eyebrow before turning away again.

"Please. It's no trouble, I assure you." The newcomer took the suitcase and carried it to where the rest of the _Enterprise_ party's luggage was. This time the entire rest of the party gave her a funny look; Christine shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"Thank you…uh…" Her voice trailed off.

"My name is Collins. Barnabas Collins. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear lady. And your name is…?"

"Christine Chapel," she supplied. "Good evening, Mr. Collins. I'm Assistant Chief Medical Officer on the U.S.S. _Enterprise_, and these are my shipmates." She introduced her new acquaintance to the others, then turned to follow them as they started for the elevator. The inside of the building was every bit as old-fashioned-looking as the outside, but something told her that the Inn must have all the current modern conveniences or else it could not have stayed in business for so long.

Barnabas called to her. "Might I not spend some time with you while you're here?"

"Your invitation is appreciated, Mr. Collins, but I'm afraid we're going to be very busy," she told him politely but factually. "We're here to find out who's behind all the recent killings."

"Call me Barnabas," he told her. "Besides, I highly doubt that you will be occu- pied with your mission 24 hours a day."

That put her off-guard, if only for a moment--a lapse which Barnabas took full advantage of. He met her blue eyes, as beautiful as those of many of his lost loves, including Josette, with his own. Christine found his eyes as compelling and hypnotic as Spock's; one could easily drown in their fathomless depths without trying. She found herself giving in to him against her better judgment.

"What did you have in mind…Barnabas?" she asked.

"Dinner, perhaps, or a show? There is an excellent movie house just down the street. I would be honored to escort you."

"What's playing?"

He named a current favorite of hers--surely just a coincidence, but a favorite nonetheless. Christine smiled and nodded. "I'll see what I can do. However, I doubt that the Captain will let me go without one of our Security people along as a precaution."

Barnabas smiled, instantly attracted by her lovely smile and sparkling eyes--eyes the color of the morning sky, which he had not seen for more years than he cared to count. "Quite understandable. One cannot be too careful, even nowadays."

"Where may I contact you to let you know one way or the other?" she asked.

He seemed uncomfortable, even uncertain, for a moment, then said, "I am staying with a cousin at the moment. I'll give you his comm number." He handed her a slip of paper. "I'll be waiting for your call. Please do not disappoint me." He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. "Until later tonight, my dear."

"Christine!" the Captain called impatiently.

"I've got to go," she told him. "I'll be in touch."

Barnabas smiled again and nodded in her direction, then was gone--almost too quickly, as if he had disappeared into thin air. Just as his lips and hand had seemed almost unnaturally cool--even allowing for the night air and time of year, late fall, late October, in fact…near Halloween. But there was no time for her to dwell on it now. She had to get back to the others.

"Coming, Captain!" she called back.

Again, the others all gave her a funny look when she rejoined them.

"That guy sure as hell was persistent," McCoy observed. "I noticed that he wouldn't take No for an answer."

"It is also illogical for you to accept a 'date' with a virtual stranger, Miss Chapel. For all we know, he could be the killer." Spock's voice was laced with disapproval.

"I agree," Dickerson concurred. "I don't think you should go with him."

She shook her head and laughed, though Spock was more right than any of them could possibly have known at the time. "I doubt that very much, Spock," Christine said, addressing herself to the Vulcan. "He wants me to accompany him to a movie and dinner. I admit he was persistent, but was also most charming and polite--and had the most _compelling_ eyes! When he looked at me the last time, I couldn't turn him down."

"I don't think that would be wise, Miss Chapel--at least not without one Security officer along as a precaution," Kirk remarked, an almost tutelary note to his voice as the party headed for their suites.

"That's what I told him," she replied. "He didn't seem to mind the idea."

"Who did he say he was?" the Captain asked. "I only caught his first name--Barnabas something."

"It's Collins," Christine supplied. "Seems like we've already met up with one of the illustrious Collins family."

"In that case, do you think he'd be willing to talk about his family background? We're going to need all the help we can get in solving this mystery," McCoy asked.

"I don't know, Leonard. I'd have to ask him. I don't even know how he's related…or even _if_ he's related."

"Since you insist on meeting with him, it would be logical to find out all you can, Miss Chapel," Spock put in.

Not too long afterward, they reached their quarters. Christine would be sharing with Lani Davidson, while Dickerson would bunk in with the senior officers.

"I'll see what and how much I can find out, then let you know," Christine promised as Kirk and the other men prepared to enter their suite. Lani Davidson had opened the door to theirs and stood in the open doorway, waiting.

"Please do," Kirk told her. "As Bones said, we need all the help we can get to accomplish this mission." He then stepped forward into the suite and everyone made their good-nights.

Christine's eyes met Spock's briefly but neither of them spoke…and she could have sworn she saw a look in his eyes akin to jealousy at the idea of her going out with another man. She liked the idea, but knowing Spock, she couldn't afford to take it seriously--not at this point in time, when she was so unsure of him and how he felt about her.

Besides, it did him good to be reminded once in a while that if _he _didn't have sense enough to claim her, she wasn't about to sit home when she had the chance for some male company, to be with a man who could openly show his attraction to her. And all the better that it happened to be a man likely to be of considerable help to them, especially if he was willing to talk about his family to any extent.

"Coming, Christine?" Elaine Davidson asked, a touch of impatience in her voice.

"Yeah, Lani. Sorry to keep you waiting," the female Doctor apologized.

"No problem," the younger woman assured her superior. "At least not as long as we can get into our room right away." She smiled knowingly. "Besides, you've got a date tonight--and since the Captain's given you permission to go, you'll have to call and let him know when to come for you…then have time to get ready."

Christine smiled, chuckled and walked past Elaine into their room; the latter carefully locked it behind them. A few minutes later, after the women had settled into the room, Christine called Barnabas--surprised when his comm showed an audio-only signal. That was strange, since he'd looked okay to her when she saw him--but again, there was no time to dwell on it.

"Barnabas? It's Christine," she said when he answered. "I can go. When will you come for me?"

"Marvelous," came his reply. "It's six o'clock now--or 1800 hours, your time. Can you be ready in an hour?"

"Sure. My room number is 223," she told him. "We'll be waiting…both me and my chaperone," she teased. "See you at 1900 hours."

"I am very much looking forward to it," he replied warmly. "I'll see you soon. Farewell."

Again, she was both awed and intrigued by not only Barnabas' charm but his indefinable air of mystery, as if he were hiding many secrets. With any luck, maybe she could learn a few of them tonight. She cut the connection and prepared herself for her unexpected but most welcome date--particularly if it happened to shake up a certain Vulcan, even a little!

Christine was pleased to note that Barnabas arrived promptly at 1900 hours--and again, impeccably dressed. He smiled and looked her over; she wore a long, Empire waisted dress with long fitted sleeves, which ended in points on her slender hands. The top of the dress dipped low enough to show some cleavage, leaving her creamy neck and shoulders bare below the IDIC earrings she wore in her pierced ears.

She held a white shawl, along with her silver and gold glittery evening purse, which contained some Vulcan/Rigellian perfume which was a mixture of rose and honeysuckle scent, a comb, some hairpins, her medikit and even a debit card for fifty credits…"mad money", as it were, just in case of necessity. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, a gold and pearl headband assisting the hairpins in holding it in place.

At the sight of her, especially the lines of her beautiful neck and shapely, feminine body, Barnabas was warmed with both desire for her and hunger for her warm blood. Still, the latter desire was tempered by his innate decency and strong desire not to harm her, whatever the cost to himself or anyone else who might come in contact with him…up to and including any other member of the _Enterprise _landing party. He had seen a lot of beautiful women in his long sojourn on Earth, but none quite like her. If only for that reason, he had to control himself and show her the best time he possibly could on their date.

"Lani, come on," Christine called over her shoulder. "Barnabas is here and we're getting ready to go!"

"Be right there," the other, smaller woman called back. She appeared a few moments later, clad in a smart yet functional--and form-fitting--pantsuit of royal blue with gold trim on the pantlegs and jacket, a gold turtleneck sweater underneath it and regulation boots. Christine didn't see a phaser or communicator anywhere, but was sure they were concealed somewhere on Lani's person, since it was SOP for a Starfleet officer to carry a communicator and weapon on any and every mission, if not a tricorder as well.

When she joined them, Christine again introduced them. Barnabas smiled at Lani and said, "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Davidson, and feel most fortunate indeed to have two such lovely ladies to accompany me tonight. Shall we go?"

Lani still seemed wary, but Christine sensed that, like herself, the younger woman was slowly but surely being won over. Even at that, she still had a job to do, and was very serious about her work. Each woman then took an arm of her escort and left for the evening.

They went to the inn's restaurant for dinner; the fare was simple but very good. Each woman ordered a meat dish, but Barnabas stuck to tomato soup and ice water. When Christine questioned him, he explained that he had to follow a special diet because of a food allergy and had to stick to liquids as much as possible. It seemed plausible enough on the surface, but at the same time, something about it just didn't ring true--something which continually eluded her, no matter how hard she tried to put her finger on it. She didn't want to believe it, but was half-convinced that Barnabas was lying to her for some reason, was hiding something from her…but what?

Meanwhile, they finished their meal and headed for the theater. They took their seats about halfway down, Christine on the right, Lani on the left. They soon became engrossed in the film, but at one point, Christine became aware that Barnabas was holding her hand. She looked up at him, but he was staring straight ahead. Again, his hand seemed unnaturally cool to her, but otherwise strong and firm, yet gentle. At a later point, she felt him brush her hair away from one ear and gently kiss it.

"Christine…" he whispered, his voice soft and husky.

"Yes?"

"I would very much like to kiss you. May I do so?"

She touched his cheek and smiled assent; a moment later his lips met hers. They were cool at first, but soon warmed up as the kiss deepened, his arms tightening around her and vice versa. They were somewhat reminiscent of the one time Spock had kissed her, albeit under duress, on Platonius…but this encounter was consensual.

Christine checked out of the corner of her eye to make sure that Lani's attention was on the film before giving herself up to the sensations her escort's kiss was evoking in her before stroking the back of his neck, prompting a soft moan from him as he continued to kiss her. At the same time, part of her was wishing that it could have been Spock.

After a time, she moved her head to bare her neck and throat to his lips, as yet unaware of the chance she was taking by allowing him access to it--and only by the barest thread did Barnabas manage to keep from biting her. Instead, he merely kissed the warm, scented and silky bare skin she presented to him.

"Christine, I can scarcely resist you," he murmured into her fragrant hair before return- ing to her lips. "I would like so very much to…make love to you. Do you think that would be possible?"

The question was sudden but not entirely unexpected; even at that, she scarcely knew what to say. She could not deny her strong attraction to Barnabas, but was it strong enough to also deny her feelings for Spock and give herself to another man?

"It's possible," she found herself whispering back in the heat of the moment.

His arms felt every bit as strong as Spock's, although she knew he couldn't possibly be, being Human (or at least looking it). "When?" he whispered against her ear. "I do not know how long I can wait."

"I would have to contact you again; I can't say for sure right now."

"If not your room, could you come to my cousin's home?" he asked. "I have my own room there, and he respects my privacy, so he would not disturb us."

"Oh, Barnabas, you tempt me--you surely do tempt me…" Christine whispered, by now her own voice as husky as his.

"Ah-hum!" Lani's impatient voice broke in. "Time to go, lovebirds!"

Christine broke the embrace, blushing furiously. She had not felt such strong desire for a man since Psi 2000 or Platonius… Despite that, however, her heart and mind still belonged to Spock, though it was still doubtful as to when or if he would claim her.

"Sorry, Lani," she made herself say. "We just got carried away."

"Obviously," came the dry retort. "I was beginning to feel like a voyeur, the way you two were going at it."

They left the theater a short time later, Christine noting on the town clock that it was 2215 hours. "We'd better get back to the Inn," she told her date. "I'll contact you if I'm able to figure a time for us to get together again," she promised.

Barnabas kept an arm around her as they walked, Lani on his other arm. "Please don't forget," he entreated. "I need you." He lowered his voice just so Christine could hear it.

"I won't," she assured him as they headed back to the Inn.

By 2230, they had arrived back there; Barnabas insisted on seeing Christine to the door of her room. She told Lani to go inside and wait for her; she would be in in a few minutes. The girl seemed reluctant at first, then after a stern look at her companion, shrugged and went inside…though Christine was sure she was listening at the door.

Barnabas drew Christine into his arms again and resumed kissing her passionately, but made sure to stay away from her neck, because he didn't think he could resist the temptation again. "Sleep well, Christine," he finally said after reluctantly releasing her, raising her hand to his lips one final time. "Think of me."

"I will," she replied, her head still spinning from Barnabas' intoxicating kisses and passionate caresses. She hadn't felt like this since Platonius… The only thing which would have made it perfect was if it had been Spock.

_Damn it, why can't I stop thinking of him for even a moment? _Christine berated herself. _Oh hell, I forgot to ask Barnabas about his family! Now I'll have to see him again, if only for that reason…_

Once Barnabas was gone, Christine went inside to find Lani waiting impatiently, arms crossed and tapping her foot. "Well! I thought you'd decided to go home with him, the way he was all over you at the theater."

"I'll excuse that on the grounds that you're only trying to protect me. Otherwise I'd put you on report for insubordination to a superior officer," Christine told her subordinate, bodyguard and roommate. "As for the rest, that's my business, not yours."

"Okay," Lani shrugged. "But you know that you're supposed to be here to do a job, not have a romantic rendezvous, especially not with a man you barely know."

"Don't push it, Lani. I appreciate your concern, but I'm a big girl," Christine warned. "Now let's go to bed."

Within half an hour, all was silent in the darkened room except for the soft breathing of the two sleeping women. Around half past midnight, however, Elaine woke to a soft squeaking sound that seemed to be coming from the window, something only her trained ears could pick up. She felt around in her jacket pocket for her hand phaser, setting it on _heavy stun_ before carefully making her way to the window, where she was sure she'd seen movement as well as heard the squeaking sound again.

She opened the window and looked out, but saw nothing. However, just as she was getting ready to close and lock the window, she heard the strange squeaking noise again. Her head turned in the direction of the sound, her phaser raised and her finger on the trigger, but before she could move to fire it, a bat flew in and attached itself to her neck. She screamed and struggled desperately to get it off her, but after it bit her, she stopped struggling and collapsed to the floor as the thing fed on her for several minutes, drawing at least a pint of blood before withdrawing, leaving two ragged, bleeding punctures behind.

After the bat flew out the second-story window of the Collinsport Inn, it flew to a nearby apartment building, where there was another open window on the tenth floor. A moment later, it changed into Barnabas Collins, who then entered a secret compartment behind one wall of his room and got into the empty casket waiting there. He was now satisfied for the night and wanted some private time to think about Christine.

Christine awakened to a horrifying sight. The window was open and Lani was lying on the floor, unconscious, her neck bleeding from two ragged holes. She forced back a scream at how deathly pale the young woman looked as she knelt down to examine her after grabbing her medikit. In the course of her examination, she learned that Lani had lost almost a pint of blood. Something had attacked her, something which could fly, something which had obviously come through the open window…but what? These were the same kind of marks found on the necks of the other victims--and they were now dead. Or were they?

But she couldn't think about that now; Lani had to be taken care of. She got the younger woman onto her bed and stabilized her condition, treating her neck wounds, but she was still going to need a transfusion. Christine then went for the com-unit and called the suite across the hall. Spock answered, raising an eyebrow upon seeing Christine still in her nightgown. She was too distraught to notice that he was only in a robe himself.

"Spock here. What is wrong, Miss Chapel?"

"Is Dr. McCoy awake? I must speak with him!" she exclaimed.

Before the Vulcan could reply, however, McCoy came into view, still in PJs with his hair tousled and still yawning deeply. "Chris, what the hell's wrong? I heard you yell clear into the bedroom," the Doctor groused sleepily.

"Ensign Davidson has been attacked. I woke up to find her on the floor, unconscious, with two bleeding, ragged holes in her neck…and the window open. She's also lost at least a pint of blood and is going to need a transfusion!"

There was stunned silence for a while, then McCoy said, "Oh my God…it's true!" A moment later he looked up at Spock. "Get Jim in here. I think we're about to start earning our pay!"

Barnabas mentally kicked himself for having left a victim behind the way he had, but his hunger had been too great to resist. Thanks to his weakness, his curse, the search for the mysterious attacker would now kick into high gear and the _Enterprise_ Captain would more than likely prompt his people to start investigating in earnest, doing whatever was necessary to find the culprit who had attacked not only one of their own, but at least half a dozen others…and he had no doubts but that they would eventually discover his secret. Once that happened, he hoped that they would allow him to tell his story before judging him, but he couldn't count on that.

And when they did, he was sure that Christine would want nothing further to do with him. In fact, she would most likely be terrified of him. He couldn't bear the thought, but there would be little he could do to prevent it. But his only other choice would have been to attack someone else, and no matter how great his hunger, he could never have harmed Christine. At least not at this point in time could he bring himself to do so…or betray her trust, much less the feelings she seemed to be developing for him, despite the deep feelings he sensed from her for her superior, the non-Human, the...Vulcan.

He had done some research and discovered that Spock's mother was Human and that his father was some kind of high official, perhaps even an Ambassador, if the reports were true. He had never seen such a Humanoid before, with pointed ears, upswept eyebrows--and green blood! It was even said that his father was an extraterrestrial, which would make Spock half extra-terrestrial…which he seemed to be--at least physically.

He recalled Spock's reaction to him and Christine, wondering just how Spock felt toward her. He suspected the Vulcan's feelings for her were a lot stronger than he would ever admit to publicly, especially to her, much less anyone else…at least at this point in time. He found it difficult to understand how such an intelligent, advanced race as the Vulcans could ever have eschewed emotion in favor of logic, even given the explanation that it had been necessary in order to control their emotions since they had been such a passionate people at one time--and if the truth be told, still were.

He had done some more research on Vulcan physiology and learned that the green blood was based on copper, not iron, as was the red blood he was used to. Part of him was curious to know just how it tasted and how it might affect him, if at all. Of course, another part knew that Christine would never forgive him if Spock (or any of the others) were harmed. Particularly if she learned that he had been the one responsible for the attack on the young woman assigned to protect her. Not to mention the other, repeated, attacks…some uncharacteristically savage…that she and her shipmates were here to investigate--and he could well imagine what would happen once they had discovered the whole truth.

Meanwhile, of course, he intended to enjoy Christine's company for as long as he possibly could, preferring not to think of what might be in store…both for the _Enterprise_ party and himself.

The following evening Barnabas was pleased to receive another call from Christine. They made plans to get together again at 1900 hours, this time at his cousin's home. He had told her that said cousin would likely be out for the evening, so they would have sufficient privacy for whatever they wished to do, be it talking of his family or making love…if not both. He was also not surprised when she had told him she had questions for him--most likely about his family, which he could answer with little trouble compared to the ones she was likely to have about the attacks, particularly if Christine asked if he had any idea who was responsible for them.

Barnabas had never found it easy to lie, for he was basically an honest person…but over the centuries he had found it necessary to do so on occasion in order to protect his secret. Even so, many had learned it and had helped him protect it over the course of his life, but at the moment, only his cousin--Quentin, who had had a most…unusual life himself and consequently harbored secrets of his own--was privy to it.

Which brought to mind something else he had learned about Vulcans…that their lifespan was anywhere from 200 to 250 Standard years, depending on their lifestyle. Not anywhere near as long as he and Quentin had been around, but at least it was a normal lifespan rather than an enforced one--so Spock could expect a natural death one day, in the event he survived his military service.

Something Barnabas himself could only dream of, something he could not expect unless a miracle occurred and a doctor could be found like Julia Hoffman, who had done research into his affliction and devised a possible cure. Almost up until the day she died, Julia had been treating him, but the treatment had ceased shortly after her death, when her supply of serum had run out. Because of this, he had reverted to his former state, because he hadn't known just what was in it, nor had he had any way of obtaining the necessary ingredients even if he _had _known.

It had been another three centuries since then, which meant that he had essentially been cursed for almost half a millennium…and he frankly didn't see any end to his vampiric curse or his hunger for blood. This was the reason Barnabas had always fought his feelings whenever he had found himself attracted to a given woman, because the only way he would have been able to end his loneliness would be to make his latest love into the same kind of thing he was. In spite of his growing attraction to Christine, he couldn't bear the idea of her being cursed as he was--and worst of all, knowing that he would ultimately be the one responsible for making her such.

Oh well, there was no point in dwelling on it; there was nothing he could do to change matters. Not unless he was somehow able to convince Christine and her colleague, Dr. McCoy, to work toward a cure for him, which they just might be willing to do. Once they had learned his secret and got used to the idea, that is…_if_ they got used to the idea.

It was just as likely that they would feel duty-bound to destroy him. He could not expect them to be willing to help him, especially not after what he'd done, nor could he blame them if they felt they had to kill him once and for all. Even at that, Julia had left him all her notes and the formula for her serum in the event he found someone willing to help him; all it needed was the right agent to make its effects permanent.

As it was, he had required shots at least once a week and Julia had warned him that he would require the injections regularly until and if she could discover the agent to make her serum work on a permanent instead of temporary basis and allow him to remain Human. Unfortunately she had been unable to do so…and his last hope for deliverance from his affliction had died with her--or so he had believed, until now. But that was only if all went well, and after repeated dis- appointments, Barnabas could not allow himself to expect the curse to be lifted any time soon.

Meanwhile, he had best prepare himself for Christine's arrival, do his utmost to make the evening memorable for her. Perhaps he could even share some of his favorite love poetry with her…or failing that, some of his favorite musical selections.

Christine arrived at precisely 1900 hours; Quentin had gone out for the evening just an hour before. Barnabas had assured his cousin that she would be safe, that he had made certain to take a dose of blood so his craving could be kept under control while he was with her. Quentin had naturally had his doubts, but knew how stubborn his older cousin could be, that he was as immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar once he had made up his mind about something…or some_one_.

The last woman he had seen Barnabas act this way about was Roxanne, but before that, there had been Maggie Evans, who had been governess to his nephew David for a number of years before the destruction of Collinwood in 1970 Real Time--then before that, Victoria Winters, the first governess at modern Collinwood…not to mention Lady Hampshire, a widow he had met some months after her husband's death in 1970 Parallel Time.

All had resembled his lost fiancée from the 18th century, Josette, to some degree. In fact, Lady Hampshire had been one of only two women he had proposed to other than Josette. Until Christine, he had not felt so strongly about a woman unless it was Roxanne in 1840 Real Time, so much like her 1970 counterpart in Parallel Time, with whom he had fallen in love while trying to get her out of Angelique's clutches…so much alike, and yet so different.

Barnabas very much disliked the idea of giving Christine up, but if he had to, he fully intended to have some beautiful memories of interludes with her to sustain him first--only one of which would likely occur tonight.

"Good evening, Christine," he said, kissing her hand again upon ushering her into the apartment. "It is most pleasant to see you again."

"You, too, Barnabas," Christine smiled after he had seated her on the couch. He then made her a drink and seated himself next to her with his own. She took a few sips, then sighed, set her drink down and leaned back on the couch as if exhausted.

"Are you troubled about something, Christine?" he asked, his vampiric senses detecting her distress.

She sighed again and sat up, holding her drink in her hands. "There was an attack on one of our Security officers. I found her unconscious and bleeding from two ragged puncture wounds in her neck. My scans found that she'd lost at least a pint of blood. We had to call the hospital for a transfusion. She's resting comfortably now, but it'll be a while before she's back to herself once again. Not only due to the loss of blood, but the trauma of the attack. We've not been able to get her to talk about it, and have no idea when--or if--she'll ever be able to, even if she recovers physically."

"I am sorry," he returned sincerely. "It's most regrettable. I hope she is better soon."

"Thank you for your good wishes," Christine smiled--a sad smile, Barnabas noted, even as he detected worry in her. "I'm sure Lani will appreciate them. I only wish we could have caught who, or what, attacked her, so it won't happen to anyone else."

"I regret that I cannot be of more help," Barnabas told her, hoping he could make himself sound convincing…and he must have succeeded, for Christine smiled and relaxed once again.

"Maybe you can," she replied. "What can you tell me of your family background? Are there any 'skeletons in the closet', as it were? Anything you can share would be greatly appreciated, since all we have to go on is what Fleet Command was able to provide about the earlier attacks--and that's pretty sketchy."

"I'll tell you all I can," Barnabas promised. "Is there anything specific you are curious about?"

"Not specifically. Anything you can recall should help, particularly if it relates to this investigation in any way," she assured him.

"Very well. I only ask one thing."

"What is it?"

"May I hold you as I do so?"

Christine smiled to herself. It seemed a small thing to ask, although she was sure Barn- abas had plenty more in mind than simply holding her--but it had been so long since a man had held or kissed her. Their 'first date' had been the first time in God knew how long that she had known a man's arms around her, the touch of his lips and hands. Of course, she would have preferred them to have been Spock's, but any port in a storm…

"Of course." Christine moved close to her companion, cradling her head on his shoulder as Barnabas slipped his arms around her in a strong but gentle embrace. They kept their drinks within reach, occasionally taking swallows, but for the most part they were quiet, simply enjoying the other's closeness.

"Would you like some music, Christine?" he asked her.

"Tchaikovsky's _Nutcracker_ _Suite_ or Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, if you have them."

"My cousin does," he told her. "In fact, they're two of his favorites. I can have them played for you while we talk, if you like."

"Would you? I'd love to hear them."

"Excellent. Stereo on," he said. A moment later she heard the beginning of the _Nutcracker_ _Suite _and lifted her head to face him, surprised.

"How did you manage that? Starting the music, I mean," she explained. "Everything seems so old-fashioned here."

"Not our sound system. My cousin recently installed a state-of-the-art system. It's as modern as today's technology can make it--right down to the voice operation mechanism."

"It's great. I feel as if we're surrounded by the music," Christine remarked.

"There are speakers set at strategic points throughout the apartment. We can hear music where-, when- and however we like."

"If I have too much of this, I'm going to get spoiled," Christine told him. "I don't have anything like this, even in my planetside apartment or my quarters aboard ship."

"I would very much enjoy 'spoiling' you, Christine, if you give me the opportunity," Barn- abas told her, his lips resting on her hair before gently kissing it.

She once again cradled her head on his shoulder; his hands entwined at her waist to hold her securely. "I can't say how often I'll be able to see you," she warned. "Depends on how busy we get on the investigation and how long it takes to solve it."

"I understand," he returned quietly. "Meanwhile, I intend to make the most of what time is granted me to spend with you." He began telling her all he recalled of his family history, including as much history on previous attacks as he deemed safe. She turned on her mini-tricorder to catch it all, because even as good as it was, her memory could not be totally relied upon to remember all he had told her.

It was some hours later that Barnabas seemed to be 'talked out'. Christine turned off her tricorder and said, "That should be a great help. Your family history sounds most colorful, if not downright fascinating. Is there any way I could learn more?"

"Perhaps at the Collinsport Hall of Records," he suggested. "They go back to when the city was first founded, so if what I have told you doesn't help, something there surely will."

She lifted her head to face him again, mesmerized by Barnabas' deep, fathomless brown eyes. So much like Spock's, yet so different… She reached to stroke his cheek, then ran her fingers through his thick black hair before once again stroking the back of his neck. His arms tightened as he moved his lips close to hers.

"Christine, you are so warm, soft and sweet. May I…join with you?" Her companion's voice was a husky whisper, his breath feathering her lips before he moved to caress her neck and throat, moaning softly.

In spite of her earlier resolve not to give in to him, Christine found herself unable to resist, wanting him to kiss, caress and love her within an inch of her life. "Yes, Barnabas…_Yes_! Love me tonight. I need you so much."

He needed no further encouragement to gather her into his arms and stand up to carry her into his bedroom. A short time later they were behind his locked door; their kisses and caresses became progressively more passionate yet more tender than either had believed themselves capable of before now. Once both were undressed, he lowered her to the bed, his body following hers down.

The music of Beethoven's Sixth Symphony, then the Ravel piece _Bolero_, Camille Saint-Saens' piece _Le Cygne (The Swan)_, and finally the "Romeo and Juliet" soundtrack respectively served as background for their rendezvous. Christine had always dreamed of something like this…but with Spock! Who would ever have thought she could feel so fulfilled by Barnabas' lovemaking? If she hadn't already been in love with the Vulcan, it would have been frighteningly easy for her to have fallen in love with Barnabas Collins.

It was unfortunate that she had to go home soon--back to the Inn--by 0200 hours. The Captain had made her promise to return by then, or else he would send someone after her, probably Dickerson…and she didn't want that. When they finally came back to earth, she was lying intricately entwined with Barnabas, both of them totally enervated, her head on his chest over his heart, his chest hair feeling soft but wiry against her cheek. She could feel his heart pounding, still racing from their last passionate joining and intense orgasm, just as hers was.

"Thank you, Christine," he whispered, kissing the top of her head before ruffling her hair affectionately. "I shall remember this night for as long as I live."

"As will I," she assured him. "But I've got to get back to the Inn before the Captain sends the other Security officer after me."

"Understandable," her lover replied. "I shall see you home, then."

"That's not necessary, Barnabas. The Inn's not far from here and the streets are well-lit."

"I still dislike your going home alone, especially in light of the most recent attack," he returned, voice laced with concern for her safety.

"When is your cousin due back, then? Perhaps he could see me home," Christine suggested.

"Not for another hour, if not longer, I'm afraid--which would make it well past two a.m. before you could arrive home."

She sighed. "Then I'll call the Inn and have one of the guys pick me up… whoever's awake--if that'll make you feel better."

Barnabas sighed and shook his head resignedly. "No, that is unnecessary; just be careful."

"Don't worry, I will. Thank you for a most…enjoyable night."

"Thank you, my dear…and I hope to see you again soon. Take care," he told her as she got out of bed and dressed. He followed her out to the door after donning a robe. "Please contact me once you arrive back at your room. I will be unable to sleep otherwise for worrying about you."

Christine smiled and touched his cheek one last time. "I will. Good night, Barnabas."

"Good night, Christine."

The door had barely closed behind her when a strong hand clamped around her wrist. She was all ready to scream when she realized who it was. "Spock! What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"The Captain became concerned at your lengthy absence, so I volunteered to go after you and make certain you were safe," the Vulcan explained.

"Very thoughtful of you," she returned dryly. "But I'm fine." She sighed and tried to twist away from him, but couldn't. "Now kindly release me. You're cutting off the circulation in my arm."

Spock's grip relaxed but he didn't release her. "What happened here tonight that took so long?"

"That's my business," she retorted. "Besides, why should you care what I do or who I see, as long as I'm not bothering you? You forfeited any right or say you ever had over my conduct a long time ago by rejecting me so totally and completely."

Spock was stunned speechless, wanting to deny her accusations but unable to because she was right. After the way he had treated her all these years, he had no say in what Christine did with her life. Why was he even here? He could just as easily have ordered Dickerson to come for her. Had it been his atypical jealousy of Barnabas Collins' attentions to her which had prompted his actions or simply fear that the other man would steal her away from him?

He had no right to expect her to believe him, even if he could bring himself to tell her how he had come to feel about her, how much she meant to him…but at the same time, he couldn't let her go without a fight.

"That has no bearing on the present situation. Barnabas Collins is an unknown quantity and thus could pose a great potential danger to you."

"Really," Christine tossed back sarcastically as they headed out of the building. "Forgive me if I differ with you. Frankly, Barnabas Collins has treated me far better, made me feel much more of a woman in just these last few days than you have since I've known you…and he may be an unknown quantity to you, but not to me. For your information, he told me a lot about his family tonight. A most--fascinating tale. I got it all on my tricorder. He even told me where I could find _more _information. Does that sound like someone potentially dangerous?"

She took a breath, then continued. "He's even showed me attention, romantically speaking, and demonstrated concern for my safety, which is more than I can say for the likes of you," she retorted bitterly. "In fact, I'm convinced that you wouldn't care if I lived or died--and at the moment, I consider _him _far more trustworthy than you. At least he's never done anything to hurt me, make me feel inferior or shunt me aside. Again, which is more than can be said for you." Her voice became progressively colder as they neared the inn.

Once they arrived at her door, she turned to him. "Thank you for escorting me back here, however…or should I say thank the Captain? It's far more likely to have been his idea rather than yours. No doubt you were simply following orders, _doing_ _your duty_ rather than something you truly wanted to do. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Good night, Spock--and do me a favor after this…stay the hell away from me! That shouldn't be very hard to do, since you've managed so nicely for the last twenty years."

With that, Christine opened her door and stepped inside, then closed it firmly in Spock's face. He sighed and turned to go into the suite across the hall, which he shared with Jim, the Doctor and young Dickerson. Hopefully they would all be asleep, so he wouldn't have to answer any questions, for which he would be thankful, since he didn't feel up to it anyway.

A short time later the Vulcan got into bed and put himself into a sleep-trance, though it took him twice as long as it normally did to get into the proper frame of mind. Of course, he would also have denied that Christine's treatment of him had had anything to do with his present emotional turmoil, but he was fooling no one but himself. Certainly not Jim or the Doctor, much less Christine, though they were very good at making him _think _he had pulled the wool over their eyes, as it were.

But sooner or later, nothing he could do or say would convince them that Chris tine didn't matter to him because they would know otherwise, whether she chose to believe he cared for her or not--and at this point, she couldn't be blamed if she didn't. However much it may have hurt him, Spock knew that his pain was hardly comparable to the pain he had inflicted on Christine all these years by consistently pushing her away, both emotionally and physically.

He didn't know what to do or say to convince Christine of his sincerity, but if he did nothing, she would be lost to him forever. This became more likely with every passing day, with every moment she spent with Barnabas Collins. He knew that she had even been to bed with the man, since the scent of their lovemaking still clung to her. The idea of losing Christine was ore painful to Spock than anything else in his life had ever been, more painful than he would ever be willing to admit, even to Jim…and the Vulcan knew he would only have himself to blame if she slipped away from him.

At the same time, if he was proven right and Barnabas Collins was in any way responsible for any or all of the attacks, Spock considered it logical to bide his time until the truth came out…and with luck, Christine would seek him out and apologize for her actions. He refused to consider any other scenario, such as what would happen if she didn't.

As for the girl who had been attacked, she was now in Barnabas' power. Her strength was slow in returning despite the transfusion, so she needed assistance for even the simplest tasks and had only left her bed for the exercise of the usual bodily functions. She also talked in her sleep, seemingly delirious, and what she said made little sense in view of her condition.

"Please…let me go… Don't stop me…I must go to him… Please…he needs me…"

Questioning as to who Lani was referring to did no good; it was as if she didn't hear the questions at all—and even as weak as she still was, she kept trying to leave her bed and would have attempted to leave the room or open the window if she hadn't been watched constantly. The most they could get out of her was that the window must be kept unlocked and open; she became agitated upon being told that it must remain closed and locked for the safety of everyone.

To calm her, McCoy prescribed the minimum dosage of the mildest sedative he had; otherwise she might have died then—or worse, been attacked again. Even at that, it was all they could do to keep her under control. If they had ever harbored any doubts as to the supernatural origin of her affliction, the doubts were quickly erased by what Lani had said the last time they had prevented her from leaving. "I'll get out of here eventually. You cannot stop me—nor can you stop him. No power on Earth can do that."

If only to be on the safe side, everyone had taken to wearing religious symbols shortly after the attack, one of the things said to repel the undead, despite the fact that only the Medical Officers had been present to hear this. It sent cold chills down their spines at the implications of what Lani had said. If her statements were true, nothing they could do could prevent the supernatural being controlling her from taking her and turning her into one such as himself. In that case, they would have little choice but to destroy them both…and the best procedure to destroy the undead was to drive a stake through their hearts. Only that way would they truly be dead—and best of all, at peace.

As much as they hesitated to do so, they knew that if worst came to worst, they would have no choice but to kill Lani in such a manner. McCoy knew Kirk would hate to lose her skills and expertise, but in a very real sense she was already lost to them, even now…and killing her would be an act of mercy rather than murder, however messy and distasteful it might be.

Meanwhile, Kirk had dispatched Spock and Dickerson to question other guests at the Inn, see if they'd noticed anyone suspicious or heard anything unusual. The best either had come up with was some guests who had been awakened on the night of the attack by Lani's piercing screams—but no one had seen or heard anyone or anything suspicious otherwise.

The closest thing to it was Christine's meeting with Barnabas Collins, and when it was put to her, she flatly denied that he could be in any way responsible and insisted that however strange some of his actions might be, it could be due as much to his British background and mode of living as to the supernatural. She liked him too much to think (or want to believe) otherwise, though inwardly had to admit that his seemingly disappearing into thin air, his odd dietary habits, his audio-only comlink and the fact she only saw him at night could be explained in more than one way…and one of those ways was the one she didn't want to think about.

Which reminded her, she was supposed to go to the Hall of Records and see if she could discover any more on the Collins family, improve on what Barnabas had told her. Of course, it might be better if she simply allowed, Lt. Marisa Holloway, their historian which specialized in paranormal phenomena—which the Captain had only recently summoned from the ship—to look into it…but she would have preferred to do it herself, if only to prove Barnabas' innocence to the others.

If nothing else, she could go to the offices of the local paper, the _Collinsport Sentinel,_ to see if any of their back issues reported any unusual or unexplainable happenings—specifically those related to the incidents they were currently investigating. Leonard was currently looking after Lani with Lt. Dickerson standing guard now that the interrogation of the Inn guests was completed, so Christine considered it safe enough to leave for a while and send Lt. Holloway to the newspaper office while she went to the Hall of Records.

After talking with the Captain and obtaining his permission, she triangulated with Lt. Holloway, deciding to have the younger woman meet her in the Inn's lobby at 1900 hours to compare notes, see what each had come up with. After asking directions, the women split up...Christine going right, Lt. Holloway left. Christine was even lucky enough to see Spock returning from the latest interrogation of Inn staff, which he was conducting on his own, inquiring about any unusual occurrences at the Inn—but he didn't see her: or if he did, he didn't acknowledge her.

Ordinarily it would have bothered her, but at the moment her mind was on other things, such as her mission and Barnabas. She just couldn't stop thinking about the tenderly passionate evening the two of them had shared, unable to help wishing she could have had more. Not even Roger had been such an incredible lover! In fact, Barnabas' technique was reminiscent of what she had always believed an interlude with Spock could be like, if only…

In fact, it would serve him right if he happened to overhear her telling Leonard about her dates with Barnabas, particularly the second one—or happen to make a seemingly casual remark about the latter's bedroom prowess. She might even do that upon returning from the Hall of Records after checking on Lani's progress.

Barnabas had even told her about the destruction of the original Great House of Collinwood in 1970 Real Time and how it had occurred. The tale was too complicated and involved for her to recall everything, but she did remember that Collinwood had been rebuilt shortly after the dawn of the 21st century, around 2005…some 35 years after its destruction—and that the latest remnants of the family lived there with a few trusted servants.

Barnabas had not been there since it had been rebuilt and re-occupied, although he had heard it was supposed to be better than ever…yet he recalled vividly how beautiful the original mansion had been prior to its destruction. After his vampirism had begun, he had stayed at the Old House, which had miraculously escaped destruction, keeping his casket in a secret compartment behind one parlor wall there until he had relocated Quentin and decided to move in with him about a century or so ago, into an apartment located in a building owned by the Collins family corporation, where they still resided: and they intended to stay there until and unless circumstances dictated otherwise.

Christine spent the entire afternoon at the Hall of Records, finding out many things about the Collins family—some of them very strange, unusual and mysterious, even unexplainable…such as the legend that one of the original members of the family had been cursed by a witch when he had spurned her love—a vampire curse which would plague him for all eternity. Until he had met Julia Hoffman and began her treatments to become Human again, there had been periodic attacks, officially attributed to some kind of wild animal.

Christine had found some hard copies of the more colorful family legends, which had been offered for sale (this one among them), and had bought them, along with some computer cassettes of still others to take home for study. Coupled with what they already knew, particularly if Lt. Holloway also hit paydirt, she was hopeful of soon finding out who or what was behind the most recent attacks and stopping them once and for all.

To her delighted surprise, Christine found Barnabas waiting for her outside the Hall of Records when she emerged at 1830 hours. They shared a hug and brief kiss, then she spoke.

"Barnabas, it's great to see you, but how did you know where to find me?" she wondered.

He returned her smile. "I called the Inn and learned from your…friend Mr. Spock that you were here. He had planned to come for you, but I—convinced him to allow me to escort you home." He frowned. "I had considerable difficulty doing so, getting the distinct impression that he…distrusted me for some reason."

"Well, we still don't know that much about you, and trust has never come easily to Spock. He also tends to be protective of those he works with or feels close to, particularly women."

"I cannot fault him there, but do not understand why he is so distrustful of me where you are concerned. It is almost as though he were—jealous of me."

"I doubt that very much," Christine returned, although deep down she hoped it was indeed true. "Spock's not generally the jealous type, especially where I'm concerned."

She then explained her ill-fated love for Spock from its beginning, shortly before they had found Roger (or his simulacrum) on Exo III, to the present, even including the bittersweet encounters with Spock over the years, particularly the encounter in his quarters during his first _pon farr_, the time she and the Vulcan had shared consciousness together and the forced kiss between them on Platonius. Barnabas understood why she became so unusually quiet when speaking of these things, sensing that she still harbored deep feelings for Spock despite his treatment of her.

"How have you been able to endure it all these years?" he asked, incredulous in spite of his own centuries-old obsession with his first love, Josette.

"Well, stubbornness helps," she sighed. "And when that runs out, there's always hope. Not to mention several short-term affairs…but despite it all, Spock has always remained very much in my heart."

"Am I a 'short-term affair'?" Barnabas asked pointedly. "You certainly aren't a short-term affair to _me_," he finished vehemently.

"Barnabas, I'm very fond of you and I hope we can keep in touch even after this mission is over, but…" Her voice trailed off. "I don't want to hurt you or make you feel used, because you're the most wonderful person—_man_—I've ever known. You've made me feel like more of a woman in just these last few days than I have in years." They stopped briefly about halfway to the Inn so she could touch his cheek, then stroke his lips with a finger. He kissed it before smiling at her.

"By necessity, however, our relationship would _have _to be a temporary one because of my assignment to the _Enterprise_. Much of the time, we're light-years from Earth on urgent missions for Starfleet. It's also rare that we actually get leave on Earth. It's more likely to be on a Starbase or someplace like that."

"If we remain in touch, I could arrange to come see you during at least one of those leave times if you're able to give me enough advance notice," he pointed out. "You would definitely be worth the trip, I can promise you that."

"Thank you, Barnabas. I'm glad you think so." A short time later Christine looked up to notice that they had reached the Inn. "Here's the Inn. Thank you for your most pleasant company."

"The pleasure is all mine," he assured her. "Take care, Christine; give my best wishes to your friend Lani and all your other shipmates—and good luck in your investigation. I hope my suggestion about the Hall of Records was helpful to you."

"Definitely," his companion confirmed with a smile. "I think we've taken a big step ahead in our investigation, thanks to you, though it'll be simply my opinion until everyone else's thoughts on the subject are heard."

"May I see you tomorrow night? I have told my cousin Quentin about you and he is most anxious to meet you."

"I'd have to check my schedule and see if the Captain needs me for anything before I can let you know one way or the other."

"Well, you know my number. If you're available, please let me know and I will come fetch you."

"Will do," she assured him just as she and Barnabas stepped into the Inn's lobby to see Lt. Holloway standing to one side near the elevators with Spock, seemingly engaged in a most animated discussion. She was too far away to hear what it was they were discussing, but even as they neared the other pair, Holloway broke off her discussion with Spock to greet Christine.

"Christine, you won't believe what I found at the newspaper offices," the other woman declared. "I even brought some copies of the original issues and articles relating to our investigation. Did you have any luck?"

"Oh, yes. I brought back several copies of the more colorful family legends myself," the female Doctor answered.

"In which case, we'd best get back to the others so we can tell them what we found," Holloway suggested.

"Yeah, we'd better," Christine conceded. "I'll see you later, Barnabas," she stage-whispered in his direction.

"Later," he returned quietly after kissing her hand again, then seemingly vanishing into thin air.

The three officers went up in the elevator together; Chris was unable to help catching Spock's sidelong glance at her shortly before they reached their floor. It was a cross between a frown and an outright glare, seemingly at the knowledge that Barnabas had walked her home…and worst of all, denied him the same opportunity. The Vulcan was now convinced that the other man was turning into a serious rival for Christine's attention, so he had to do something soon or there was a very good chance that he would lose her. But this was not the proper time; they should be alone for such a private discussion. Perhaps there would be an opportunity after the discussion of the information she and Holloway had found.

Unfortunately, there wasn't. The discussion on the various things Holloway and Christine had discovered about the Collins family, including something about Barnabas' cousin Quentin and the legend that he became (or had become) a werewolf at every full moon, lasted far longer than expected. According to the legend, he didn't change back until the moon had waned, much meant at least a week of uncontrollable blood lust and a desire to kill all unfortunate enough to cross his path while he was in that condition.

It was possible that he had been the one responsible for the attacks on the other young women, but Spock was convinced that the attack on Ms. Davidson had been perpetuated by a being that could fly—or a being which could _turn into_ something that could fly. But not even a wolf (or wolf-man, if the legend was true) could reach the second floor of a building without assistance of some kind. Ms. Davidson had been attacked by someone or something who (or which) could turn him/itself into a flying creature with a lust for blood.

Such a creature was the vampire, which was believed to have the ability to turn into several things--a wolf, mist or a bat; they could even dematerialize if they wished. But Spock was only interested in the last of the three aforementioned things…a _flying_ creature! That was the only fact which made the possibility of a supernatural being such as a vampire more plausible. Spock was not one to believe readily in such intangible things, but the attack on Ms. Davidson could not be explained in any other way.

This made the Vulcan all the more determined not to allow Christine to see Barnabas Collins without a chaperone, even if he had to accompany them himself. There had been no overt evidence that the man was anything but what he seemed, but Spock sensed that Barnabas Collins was concealing something about himself—some strange, even paranormal condition which could make him dangerous to Christine at a time when she was the most vulnerable and trusting of him.

She had told him to stay away from her and not to interfere in her relationship with Barnabas, but Spock was becoming more concerned by the day…not only for Christine's safety but her affections possibly transferring from him to Barnabas—and whatever the Vulcan had to do, he could not allow that to happen.

He sighed exasperatedly at how protracted the discussions had become; by the time they finally broke up, most of the Humans (including Christine) were yawning deeply and stretching as they stood up and prepared to go their separate ways. This was in spite of the fact that each of the others had had at least one cup of coffee. Even with the caffeine in the aforementioned hot beverage, Spock felt sure that Christine was not going to be up to another long talk, even if it regarded their relationship and the possible deepening of same.

Spock swore to himself in both his native language and Standard at this latest setback. Surely it was difficult enough to begin and maintain a romantic relationship _without_ such problems as he had been having, particularly if the object of his affections just might be slipping away from him. The best he could do now was walk her back to her room…if she allowed it, that is—and possibly kiss her hands before they departed. As everybody began filing out the main door of the rooms he shared with the Captain, McCoy and Dickerson, where the meeting had been held, the Vulcan stepped up to Christine and quietly spoke to her.

"Christine, may I walk you to your door?"

She looked up at him questioningly. "I suppose so, Spock, but it's not really necessary, since I'm just down the hall. Unless you really want to, of course."

They had gotten Christine another room down the hall, since McCoy had deemed it more therapeutic for Lani Davidson to have a private room. (The ACMO was now sharing a room with Marisa Holloway.) He also seemed it necessary to give her another transfusion, since she didn't seem to be regaining her strength as she should—and not even he could have explained why, unless there really _was_ something to all this supernatural business…although McCoy was almost as skeptical as Spock in that regard.

Even at that, he had seen it too often in his medical career not to believe in at least occasional miracles; he had performed too many seeming miracles himself, which had saved the lives of both his friends and various other _Enterprise_ crewmembers. Not until the vampire cloud on Tycho IV had he seen anything like what Lani Davidson was going through now…and if he couldn't come up with another medical miracle somehow, and soon, she would die—just as the other hapless Security officers had. The question was, would she _stay_ dead?

McCoy shuddered at what he might have to do in the event the old Collins legend of one of the original family members being under a vampire curse was proved true and Lani just his latest victim. If it was true, this…being would be at least half a millennium old! And despite Christine's insistence that Barnabas Collins couldn't possibly be responsible for Lani's condition, the Chief Surgeon had to at least consider the possibility. After all, how much did they really know about the man? Even Chris herself had mentioned some of his odd habits—such as only seeing her at night, his audio-only comm system, seemingly vanishing into thin air after his farewells to her, and strangest of all, not eating any solid food, but sticking to liquids.

The Doctor recalled that vampires could not be out in the daytime since it was fatal to them. They also would not show up in pictures or mirrors. The latter would show no reflection, and lastly, because of his hunger for blood, such a being would only be able to ingest liquids to sustain himself. Of course, Barnabas _could_ simply be eccentric; everything he claimed could actually be true…but even if it were, it would be most unusual. If this Barnabas were indeed the kind of thing the Doctor suspected he must be, Chris would be in great danger if she spent much more time alone with him.

The legend had also stated that vampires could hypnotize victims (or potential victims) with their eyes and put them in their power either that way or once they had actually been bitten. They were also said to be abnormally strong, so probably not even Spock would be able to stop him if he should decide to take Christine for his own, make her his companion for all eternity. The closer they got, the more likely that scenario was. In that case, it wouldn't only be Spock who would do literally anything to prevent that. It would likely be himself as well—if not Jim and Dickerson, too.

Spock actually did walk Christine to her room; she even allowed him to kiss her hands before he left her for the night—but she was presently unaware of the difficulty the Vulcan had had in leaving her, although his control was such that he gave no outward sign of said difficulty. Even at that, Christine would likely have scoffed had she been told of the feelings Spock was supposedly harboring for her…particularly since they only seemed to have developed since she had been seeing Barnabas—as far as she could tell, at any rate. (At least that was what she wanted him to think.)

It would take a lot more than a simple token gesture like kissing her hands for her to believe in his sincerity after all the years he had kept her at both a physical and emotional distance. Therefore, she could hardly be blamed for either her skepticism or her actions with Barnabas…i.e., having an affair with him right under the Vulcan's nose. She would likely have to test him before she could be completely certain how he regarded her: and she knew just how to do it.

At 1200 the next day, both she and Leonard had looked in on Lani and checked her progress, to see that the transfusion was taking—and this time, it actually seemed to be working. Lani was sitting up in bed and had actually been able to take solid food for a change, which was when McCoy had decided to accompany Christine to lunch. They hadn't done that for a long time, for obvious reasons, so it was high time they did it again. Besides, he was curious to learn about her relationship with Barnabas Collins anyway.

Up to this point Lani had claimed she was too nauseated to eat, so McCoy had put her on IV nutrients, but encouraged her to eat at the first opportunity once she felt up to it…and she seemed so much better today that she might actually eat an entire meal. Still, he was all too aware that people often showed signs of improvement shortly before death, so he put Dickerson on guard in her room, a crucifix around his neck to accompany his phaser, to be on the safe side, before daring to leave with Christine. Even then, the CMO admonished him to contact Jim and/or Spock if something happened and their services were needed because the senior officers would be able to page them in case of necessity.

As far as either McCoy or Christine (apparently) knew, the Captain and Spock planned to remain in their room to study the additional information she and Lt. Holloway had uncovered…and as far as that went, would be discussing it with her at length. But even though Spock was planning to go down to the Inn's dining room, ostensibly to obtain something to eat about half an hour after the Medical Officers' departure, in reality he intended to eavesdrop on the conversation between them and hopefully learn whether or not he still had a chance with Christine or if he had lost her to Barnabas Collins.

What Spock was unaware of was that Christine was setting up the whole thing to satisfy her own curiosity about how the Vulcan truly regarded her, intending to make sure she gave as many intimate details of her relationship with Barnabas as possible, even if she had to manufacture some.

Of course, when he actually did go, Spock expected Jim to ask him to bring back something for him since the Captain had awakened late and had therefore not eaten anything since dinner the previous evening. He was also supposed to bring back something for Lt. Holloway too, if she wanted anything. They would reimburse him as soon as possible for the cost of the food.

The Vulcan nodded in their direction with a half-smile after taking their orders, but knew that if he was to pull off his plan, he would have to have one of the wait staff deliver the food to them. That was the only way he would be able to eavesdrop on McCoy and Christine's conversation long enough.

He knew what close friends they were, and although he felt guilty about invading both her (and possibly McCoy's) privacy, it was unlikely that either would be willing to discuss what they had talked about with him…and Spock had a very unVulcan curiosity about the ACMO's new romance with the charming yet very mysterious Mr. Barnabas Collins—and he was definitely very much interested in what the latter's intentions might be regarding Christine.

Technically it was none of his business, since Christine was a grown woman and didn't need to answer to anyone for his private conduct (especially not him), but it was his rapidly growing feelings for her which had prompted him to come up with this atypical plan. Still, despite how she might feel toward him because of it, Spock could not allow her to become one of Barnabas' victims should the latter take it into his head to attack her—that is, if he actually proved to be what Spock now suspected that he was.

Of course, Spock had discussed it with Kirk, but although the Captain privately didn't think it was a good idea, since it could backfire drastically if Christine found out that Spock had been spying on her, the Vulcan could not see any logical alternative…no other way to find out what he wanted to know. So Kirk warned the Vulcan to be careful and not let them know he was there if he could help it—and to get as close to them as possible. Spock assured his Human friend that he would do so, and told both Kirk and Lt. Holloway to expect their meals shortly after he made his departure.

Spock ordered the meals for Kirk and Lt. Holloway upon reaching the Inn's dining room, paid for them, then tipped the Head Waiter to take the meals up before ordering his own and searching for both Christine and McCoy as well as a place to sit which was hopefully located within earshot but not sight of them. The last thing he needed was for one or both of them to come by and spot him, so he had to be careful. (What he didn't know was that both had spotted him the moment he entered, but pretended not to notice his presence.)

To his surprise and pleasure—though he sternly schooled himself to conceal the latter—the Vulcan managed to find a spot fairly near to them on the starboard side of the room. There was an artificial oasis with seats and tables behind it, the oasis blocking the view of him and vice versa…but what mattered to Spock was being able to hear them—and that he could do just fine.

For a while, fifteen minutes or so, the Vulcan estimated, the two Doctors discussed medical matters (such as how Lani was doing). Spock occupied himself with his own meal during that time. Not long before he finished, he heard Christine say, "I imagine you're most curious about my relationship with Barnabas Collins, aren't you, Leonard?"

"Just a little," McCoy returned dryly.

"Then I must have your word that you won't discuss this with anyone, including me, if Spock is anywhere around--or even if you think he _might_ be around. Not that I really think it would matter that much to him if he _did _know. For that matter, he might even thank Barnabas for occupying my time and consequently, getting me off _his _back." Her voice lowered near the end, then she was silent for a time, presumably eating or drinking, if not both.

"Don't worry, Chris, he won't hear it from me." McCoy winked at her. "Though I must say that I don't like your denying me the opportunity to needle him with this," the Doctor chuckled…then the CMO was also silent for a while before he finished speaking. "Now what's been going on with you and Barnabas?"

At this point, Spock picked up his ears and listened intently. This was what he had been waiting to hear.

"Well, the night we first met, he asked me to dinner and a movie, as you know," Christine said. "But what I didn't tell you before was any details of the evening. While we were in the theater, Barnabas brushed some of my hair aside and leaned over to kiss my ear—then asked if he could kiss me."

McCoy's eyes widened and his brows lifted in surprise upon hearing this, though Spock didn't see it. He heard only the silence after Christine finished speaking.

"I see. Go on," the elder Doctor finally said, his tone unnaturally quiet.

"Not long after that, he _did_ kiss me—then put his arms around me and held me tightly. It went on so long that I could imagine what Lani was thinking all this time…and incidentally, Barnabas is a very good kisser. Reminiscent of Spock when he kissed me on Platonius—but the kiss between Barnabas and myself was mutually desired. I truly doubt that Spock would have done such a thing in the same situation, even if Lani hadn't been there."

Christine took a breath after her lengthy explanation, then a swallow of her drink, pink lemonade "on the rocks". Spock knew this because he had heard her order another, though he didn't know exactly what kind of meal she had ordered.

"And then what?" McCoy prompted before taking a bite of his own food—Spock was certain he had ordered some kind of Southern dish (the Inn had a limited selection of Southern dishes)—then washed it down with his own favorite drink, a mint julep.

"He whispered that he wanted to…sleep with me and asked if it would be possible." Her voice was soft, but the Vulcan's keen ears caught every word—and one can guess how he reacted to that revelation, given his new-found feelings for Christine. This time Spock's eyes widened and both of his upswept brows shot into his bangs…then he felt a sharp pain in the vicinity of his heart at the thought of Christine giving herself to another man—allowing him to kiss her, caress her, undress her…then physically join with her.

_By the gods, no!_ Spock exclaimed to himself, scarcely able to bear thinking about it for longer than a few moments. At the same time, he knew he had no right to object or even try to stop her from doing so again if she so chose. If any more of the conversation held shocking news like this, Spock was uncertain whether or not he could handle listening for much longer. That one revelation was likely to keep him awake all night as it was!

"…he could wait," she said.

The Vulcan cursed himself for having missed some of her conversation, but vowed to listen all the more carefully after this—for as long as he could.

"Yes? What did you say, Chris?" McCoy again prompted. "I'm afraid I didn't catch all that."

Spock silently blessed McCoy for this; now he would know what he had missed.

"Then Barnabas said he didn't think he could wait and wanted to know when and where we could do it, even suggesting his cousin's home. He said he has his own room there and that his cousin always respects his privacy, so we wouldn't be disturbed."

Christine again took a breath, then continued after another swallow of her drink. "I told him how tempting his offer was…than Lani broke the moment by saying it was time to go. When I thought of how we had been going at it, I couldn't help blushing, you know?" she confessed, feeling her cheeks redden at the memory of the passionate interlude. "I swear, I hadn't felt like that since the encounter on Platonius!" the female Doctor exclaimed.

"Just the same, I couldn't help thinking of Spock and how much I wished to God it could have been him. Fat chance of that, though," she finished morosely, bowing her head for so long that it took McCoy's touch on her hand to bring it up again. Her eyes were full of pain and frustrated love. "Damn it, Leonard, why does Spock have to be so godawful stubborn? Why do I have to love him so much when there's so little chance for me?"

"He's a Vulcan, Chris," McCoy returned. "They cornered the market on stubborn. As for the rest…" Again, the Doctor's voice trailed off. "I've never been able to figure him out on that score any more than you have. I always figured that to reject true love when it's offered is the height of illogic, particularly in light of the _pon farr_…but he's done just that—and done it for years." The CMO twisted his lips and shook his head in bewilderment, though only Christine saw it. "Well, to get back to the subject," McCoy began again. "What happened when you _did _sleep with Barnabas? I'm assuming you decided to go for it."

Spock steeled himself to hear another difficult revelation. Even as painful as it was, however, he knew he had to hear it in order to be able to formulate a plan to hopefully win Christine back.

"I got together with him the next night at his cousin's home," she explained. "His cousin, Quentin, was out for the evening, so we were alone. He told me a lot of his family background. Good thing I thought to take my tricorder; I got everything on tape. We listened to classical music after that. I was cuddled up next to him with my head on his shoulder and his arms around me. It felt very similar to how I think Spock's arms probably would…that is, if I could ever get him to notice me."

Spock winced again upon hearing this. If only she could know his true feelings right now; if only he had the strength to tell her! He cursed his cowardice which kept them apart and had ultimately led to her affair with Barnabas Collins.

"After a while, he pulled me close so that our lips were just barely apart, then asked to—make love to me. And…I said yes."

These last words stabbed into Spock more painfully than any knife. He had to do something drastic, and soon, or else he would lose Christine for sure! But what?

"Well, how did it turn out?" McCoy wondered. "Was he all you expected?"

"Much more," she sighed. "I've never felt more satisfied or fulfilled in my life! Yet even at that point, I was wishing it had been Spock. Damn him, why does he always have to come between me and every man I try to get involved with?" Christine lamented, her tone a mixture of anger and pain. Once again, the Human woman sighed and finished her drink, but pushed her only partially eaten meal away. "I've lost my appetite, Leonard. I can't eat any more. Besides, we've been away from Lani for over an hour, so we've got to check on her, see if her condition has changed at all."

With that, Christine and McCoy pushed their chairs back and got up. When Spock heard this, he knew he had to get out of the room but quick. He stood up and hurried out, the pain inside him almost incapacitating. The way he felt, he doubted he would be able to discuss it with Jim until he'd been able to sort out everything in both his mind and heart.

He had gotten the answers he sought, but found himself wishing that he'd never come to the restaurant, never eavesdropped. The loneliness and emptiness inside him was incredible…worse than any he had ever felt before. The only thing that made it anywhere near bearable was the fact that Christine still loved him, despite what she had done with Barnabas Collins.

Even so, how could he realistically expect her to choose him, even if he did manage to declare himself and she actually believed him? It would not only be arrogant but illogical to take her choice for granted, although Spock's half-Human heart prayed for that very thing to come about, despite how bleak things looked now.

But he still had to make sure to do something in order to give her a better, more logical reason to choose him—though even then, it was possible that no matter what he did, she still might decide against him…and he couldn't blame her if she did. In that event, the Vulcan didn't know how he would ever handle being in close proximity to her and know she was lost to him forever because of his own cowardice. It was still likely, however, that she would still decide to remain with the ship, even if she became Mrs. Barnabas Collins.

_You…stupid kre'nath,_ the Vulcan cursed himself as he stumbled blindly to the elevator, thankful he didn't run into anyone between the restaurant and his room, so no one would see him in his self-inflicted misery. _Why in Vulcan's name did you wait so long to declare yourself, you miserable, insufferable in'fai!_

The distance between the elevator and the door of his room had seemed endless, but he finally made it. He was glad to see that Lt. Holloway had gone; he assumed that she had returned to her own room…the room she shared with Christine. He even noted that what had been her side of the table was immaculate, while the remnants of Jim's meal still sat before him.

_Christine!_ Spock thought, anguished, the name calling up her face, her smile, her kiss… Even now, he could feel the warmth, taste the sweetness of her lips despite the fact that their first and only kiss had been forced. But that didn't matter now. The point was, it had occurred—but if he didn't do something to fight for her, if only figuratively, he would never taste those lips again.

_No! That must not happen! I cannot...will not...lose her like this!_ his mind and heart shouted simultaneously.

One look at his Vulcan friend told Kirk something was very wrong. He followed Spock into their shared bedroom with its twin double beds. "Spock, are you all right? Is something wrong?"

The Vulcan did not answer, flopping down gracelessly onto his bed, one arm over his eyes to block out the light from the window—and hide his unbidden tears.

"Spock, let me help…please," Kirk entreated. "I can't stand to see you like this."

When the Vulcan finally did speak, his voice was so soft Kirk could barely hear him. "Please, my friend," he whispered hoarsely. "I…know how—concerned you are for me, but I… cannot discuss it now. Please leave me. I—must be…alone for a time, to—gather my thoughts."

His friend's tone was so pleading that Kirk could not deny him. "All right, Spock, but if I don't see you within four hours, I'm coming back to check on you."

The Vulcan nodded stiffly in the direction of Kirk's voice, then the latter quietly left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind him, his frustration and concern twisting into a heavy, painful knot in his gut at not being allowed to help his friend in the time of the latter's greatest need.

**VULCAN TERMS:**

**KRE'NATH – bastard, undesirable**

**IN'FAI – idiot, blockhead, etc.**

When Spock came out of the bedroom, roughly half an hour after Christine's departure with Barnabas, Kirk was horrified at his appearance. He looked haggard and there were dark circles under his eyes, as if he had neither slept nor meditated for at least a week. Kirk rushed to his friend's side to help him to the couch when he seemed about to collapse.

"Spock, you look terrible! What's wrong? What's happened?"

"I…have experienced a nightmare," the Vulcan whispered hoarsely, visibly trembling from the trauma of it.

"Must have been a real whopper—that is, a really bad one," the Captain amended at his alien friend's raised eyebrows. "You don't terrify easily." Kirk was quiet for a while, sensing that Spock needed medical help, then said, "I think I should call Bones." It frightened him even more when the Vulcan didn't argue with him. A moment later, the Captain reached for his communicator on the coffee table before them and flipped it open. "Bones, you need to come back. It's Spock."

"Why? What's happened?" the Doctor asked, both curious and concerned when he answered.

"Spock's had a nightmare…a really bad one. I think he's in shock. He's pale and trembling; his skin's clammy…" Kirk's voice trailed off.

"Has he told you about it yet?" McCoy asked.

"No, he just came out of the bedroom, looking like he was ready to collapse. I had to help him to the couch."

"I suppose it's safe enough to leave Lani for now. Her condition hasn't changed. As soon as I've given Dickerson orders to call me if anything happens, I'll be right there. McCoy out."

"Thanks, Bones. Kirk out." The Captain returned his attention to his other friend. "McCoy's on his way. Can you tell me anything about the nightmare?"

The Vulcan seemed not to hear him for a moment, then suddenly threw himself into his Human friend's arms. Kirk held his friend protectively, comfortingly, like he would a frightened child, stroking the Vulcan's silky dark head soothingly as it rested on his shoulder. Spock held his Human companion in a tight hug, as if his life depended on it. Kirk took short, shallow breaths because of this to keep from passing out.

"Jim, Jim… It was terrible…horrible…" The voice was babbling, almost incoherent, so unlike the Vulcan's ordinary strong, deep baritone.

"What happened?" Kirk asked in his gentlest voice.

Just then, before Spock had a chance to formulate a reply, McCoy approached them, scanner in hand and running it over the Vulcan's body. "You're right, Jim. It's shock," the CMO confirmed. "But what the devil could have caused this? Spock's not easily frightened or intimidated."

"I…don't know, Bones. I was hoping that together, we would—be able to get it all…out of him."

"Good idea, Jim—but he needs a tranquilizer first. He's holding onto you so tight that it's a wonder you can still breathe…not to mention the fact you're going to have bruises on your shoulders and arms for weeks to come."

A moment later the Doctor gave the Vulcan a shot to calm him; Spock released Kirk and allowed his friends to lay him down on the couch. Both of the large, thick cushions there were placed under his head and knees respectively. McCoy sent Kirk for the comforter off Spock's bed and again checked the latter's vital signs for any change.

While the Captain tucked the comforter around Spock, McCoy pulled up two chairs and placed them near him before seating himself in one and gesturing to Kirk to seat himself in the other. "Spock? It's McCoy," the Doctor crooned gently. "I've given you a mild tranquilizer. You should feel calmer by now, but don't try to get up. Just lie quiet and rest; Jim and I will stay with you. Can you tell us about the nightmare?"

The Vulcan smiled tiredly but gratefully. "I—shall attempt to do so, Doctor."

"Who was in it?" Kirk asked softly.

"Myself, Christine and Barnabas Collins," Spock revealed quietly.

"What were the three of you doing?" McCoy asked.

"I…was searching for Christine, but—could not find her. It was…dark, cold and desolate; I--had no idea where I was. Then suddenly, Barnabas Collins appeared…seemingly out of nowhere. I asked him if he had—seen her. He smiled and nodded. 'Come, I will take you to her,' he said. He… led me to an old, seemingly deserted mansion…then downstairs—into the basement, where I saw… two coffins, one of them…open and empty, the other closed. I asked again—where was Christine? He…gestured to the closed coffin. I—gave him a…strange look. What would she be doing here, in a coffin?

'Ask her and find out,' Barnabas tells me—again smiling enigmatically.

I stepped up to the…closed coffin and opened it. I—found Christine lying in it, her…hands folded on her abdomen, seemingly asleep. Then as I looked at her, she—awakened and …spoke to me. 'Spock—I need to tell you something,' she said…then sat up and touched my hand as it rested on the side of the coffin. Her touch was—as cold as ice. I looked up at Barnabas accusingly.

'What have you done to her?' I demanded to know.

'She belongs to me now,' Barnabas said. 'She will…be my bride for all eternity.'

'What do you mean?' I asked, frightened in spite of myself.

'Can you not guess, my love?' Christine asked. 'Barnabas has made me into what he is. I will be eternally young and beautiful…and best of all, never be alone again. He will always be with me. I—directed him to bring you to me so that I could…tell you goodbye and that I'll never forget you. In fact, I'll even give you—a kiss to remember me by.' With that, she…reached for me, attem- pting to—put her arms around my neck. Her…mouth opened, revealing—animal-like fangs. I… paled and backed away.

'I am sorry, Christine. I cannot allow you to do so,' I told her.

Tears filled her eyes, but I just could not do it. However, just when I—least expected it, I felt a strong push from behind…and went—directly into her arms. The…next thing I knew, she had—sunk her fangs into my throat and sucked my blood. I…screamed in spite of myself but could not stop her. She took enough of my blood so that I—collapsed beside the coffin. Then she was…cradling me in her arms as Barnabas looked on.

She smiled apologetically. 'I'm—sorry, beloved, but I find that I just can't leave you behind. Within three days, you shall become…as we are—then we will roam the night, all of us…together for all eternity.'

'No…no!…_No!_' I cried out, seeing in my mind's eye what I would become, growing long, sharp and hideous teeth and feeling a growing—hunger for blood, knowing I would…never see the sun again. The prospect was too much—I…passed out. Then not long afterward, I woke up—and came out here."

"Oh, my dear God," the Captain whispered, every bit as pale as Spock.

"No wonder he's in shock," McCoy put in. "To find Christine as one of those…things, then be turned into one himself—that could horrify even a Vulcan," the Doctor finished.

"Bones, will he be all right?" Kirk asked. There was no reply. "Damn it, tell me! Will he or won't he?" the Captain cried impatiently.

"Oh, sorry, Jim. I didn't hear you at first. Yes, I believe he'll be all right," the Doctor assured him. "For now, he just needs rest, quiet and good companionship. Which reminds me—where's Christine? Still with Barnabas?"

Kirk nodded. "She went with him to meet his cousin…said she would probably not be back until at least midnight—and that either he or his cousin would bring her home."

"Too bad. She could help Spock by proving that nothing's happened to her," the Doctor opined.

"Yet," Kirk finished. "Until she gets back, we have to fill in as best we can. He'll need all the friendship and support we—"

Just then McCoy's communicator sounded off. "Doctor McCoy!" Dickerson called, alarmed, after the Doctor opened it.

"McCoy here. What's happened?" the CMO spoke into his communicator.

"Lani's dead. She went into cardiac arrest five minutes ago. I couldn't stop it."

Both men's eyes closed in pain; Spock seemed to be dozing. "It's all right, Andy. You did all you could. I'll be there in a few minutes. McCoy out." After closing the communicator, he turned back to Kirk. "Oh my God, Jim. Do you know what this means?" McCoy's voice trailed off, each man seeing stark fear in the other's face. How would they ever tell Spock or Christine, much less deal with what they would likely have to do to spare Ensign Davidson the Hell of vampirism?

Meanwhile, at Barnabas and Quentin's apartment, Christine—as yet unaware of the drama unfolding back at the Collinsport Inn—was laughing and joking with Quentin while Barnabas sat next to her, holding her gently but securely. His cheek rested on top of her head, his hands entwined at her waist, and he occasionally kissed her hair.

Quentin couldn't help noting how happy and content Christine seemed to be with his cousin. At the same time, he considered it strange that she would leave Spock, the Vulcan whom she reportedly loved, to begin an affair with Barnabas. Something must have happened to change her feelings toward Spock…something which Barnabas might or might not have had anything to do with.

Christine, for her part, found Quentin Collins every bit as charming and polite as his cousin, albeit in a different way. He was more conventionally handsome as well, but she felt no inclination to switch from one cousin to the other. Just the same, Quentin tended to be every bit as close-mouthed and secretive as Barnabas. It seemed to be a Collins family trait, just as following medical and/or scientific careers seemed to be a Chapel family trait.

Even her father Christopher, now a retired diplomat, had started his working life as a xenobiologist—and because of all the times her parents had talked about their careers with her, Christine could only assume that that was at least part of the reason she came by her medical/scientific aptitude.

But at the moment she was more concerned with what she'd heard about Quentin…the legend of his having become a werewolf, not to mention how a most unusual portrait of him painted by one Charles Delaware Tate, an artist who could reportedly paint people and actually bring them to life by doing so, had saved him. In this case, the painting supposedly showed all the ravages of time that Quentin did not, reminiscent of the novel _The Picture of Dorian Gray _and the old movie of the same name.

It was even said that Quentin was immortal…or close to it. However, she had also heard of the legend that Quentin's ghost had haunted Collinwood for some years prior to its destruction in 1970 Real Time, so somebody had to be either exaggerating, mistaken—or if certain reports were true, it had happened in another band of time.

There were only certain things either man was anywhere near willing to talk about, though …and it usually wasn't themselves, at least not to any great extent. It was more likely to be about friends or other family. She had frankly been surprised that Barnabas had been so forthcoming, at least initially—but now, no matter how she tried, she had been unable to get him to discuss his background further. At this point, _Spock_ would probably have been more talkative …and that was saying something!

Which reminded her, she'd have to check in and see how he was doing at the first opportunity. For the last several days, she had been so busy with Barnabas that she had seen Spock mostly in passing. They hadn't spent any substantial amount of time together, mainly because she hadn't allowed him too close, and after she'd ordered him to stay away from her, Spock had apparently taken her at her word and kept his distance.

But she _did_ still care about him, and her conscience was beginning to bother her because of the way she had been treating him—avoiding him whenever possible, keeping him at arms' length when they had to be in proximity, openly discussing the details of her dates with Barnabas. Maybe now he had some idea of how _she_ had felt all the years he had done essentially the same thing to her. Enough was enough, however; he'd surely gotten the message by now.

"So how's your investigation going, Christine?" Quentin asked.

Christine came back to reality with a jolt. "Investigation? Can't complain…too much, that is. Barnabas has helped all he can, and some of us have been questioning people to see if they heard or saw anything on the night of the attack which might help us."

"Any luck?" Quentin wondered.

"Some people said they'd been awakened by piercing screams shortly after midnight; not much else."

"How is your Security officer doing?"

"Stable, last I heard, but still weak. We had to give her at least two transfusions and she's still not recovered."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she's better soon."

They had been listening to some classical music—Tchaikovsky's greatest hits or something, and according to Barnabas, performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra, his favorite artists, who only did classical pieces. During one piece, an inexplicable sadness came over Christine and tears filled her eyes; she snuggled closer to Barnabas for comfort. He was inwardly startled but didn't question her actions, simply tightened his embrace. Quentin was the one who voiced his concern.

"Is something wrong, Christine?"

"Something about the music," she explained. "It's beautiful, but very sad. This particular piece, anyway. What's it called?"

"_None But the Lonely Heart_," Quentin supplied. "Barnabas likes it, too."

"No wonder," Christine remarked. "Which reminds me, I'd better check in, see how things are going. May I put the comm into visual mode? I generally like to see who I'm talking to."

Barnabas stiffened; she smiled reassuringly.

"But I make an exception for you."

He smiled and nodded. "Go ahead; just remember to switch it back when you're finished," he told her.

Christine reluctantly extricated herself from Barnabas' arms and moved over to the comm unit, then opened it and put it into visual mode, keying in the comm code for the _Enterprise_ men's suite. A moment later, she was surprised to see McCoy's craggy face. The look in his eyes frightened her.

"Leonard, what's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Christine, thank God you called!" McCoy exclaimed. "Lani Davidson is dead. Cardiac arrest about two hours ago."

"Oh, lord…" she breathed. "Anything else?"

"Spock is recovering from shock. Very bad nightmare. He's resting comfortably now; I gave him a mild tranquilizer—but I can't tell you anything more about it until you get back."

She looked carefully at McCoy and heard the concern for Spock that the Doctor rarely admitted to in his voice. His eyes were haunted, but his face had been schooled into a professional mask.

"I wonder what prompted it?" she asked.

"I have no idea, Chris…but I think it had something to do with you; consequently, it would help Spock's recovery if you could come back and sit with him to assure him that you're all right. He seems convinced that you're in mortal danger and nothing Jim or I say changes his mind. He's got to hear it from you before he'll be satisfied."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Leonard. Everything else all right?"

"Fine. See you as soon as you can get here. McCoy out."

"Right. Chapel out." Christine looked up at the touch of Barnabas' hand on her right shoulder. Quentin stood next to him.

"What is wrong, Christine?"

"The girl who was attacked died a couple of hours ago, and Mr. Spock has had some kind of intense psychic dream—a nightmare, really—where I'm in danger and he needs to see me for himself to make sure I'm all right."

Quentin frowned. "I thought you said you two were just friends."

"As far as I know," Christine confirmed.

"Doesn't sound like it. Seems more like he's either in love with you or getting there fast. I've studied Vulcans some, and they don't generally act this way about someone unless they…care deeply for them."

"Nice thought, Quentin, but I'm not holding my breath. It's been too many years and Spock's too stubbornly logical for me to allow myself to believe that he's suddenly—developed deep feelings for me."

"Do you want to go back to the Inn now? I was just about to order dinner from there," Quentin told her.

"My medical instinct tells me I'd better go home now. I'll take a raincheck on the dinner. Leonard—Dr. McCoy—doesn't usually call me unless it's serious and he needs my help."

Barnabas sighed and lowered his hand. "In that case, I had better take you home." He helped her into her jacket and told Quentin he would return shortly; with that, the couple left for the Inn. Although Barnabas technically could have called for an aircab, the Inn was within walking distance of the apartment building, so he chose to walk Christine home instead since he wanted to be with her as long as possible.

Again, he had had to take a dose of blood earlier so he could be with her and still control his hunger. He kept an arm around her as they walked; Barnabas had discovered that when he was with Christine, he was able to forget his affliction, if only for a little while…and hoped against hope that he would not lose this woman in some nasty way as he had lost the others he had loved, particularly Josette and Roxanne.

One of them had tumbled off the Widows' Hill cliff not too far from Collinwood; the other had been left behind in 1970 Parallel Time when he and Julia had escaped through the secret room in the West Wing—then after their return from 1995 and learning of the destruction of Collinwood by the zombie minions of the evil ghost of Gerard Stiles from 1840, he had met another version of Roxanne in 1840, Real Time, whom he had inadvertently made into one such as he.

His nemesis Angelique, a witch who had originally put him under the curse of vampirism because he had spurned her love, had returned and learned of his love for Roxanne (and vice versa), then re-opened the wounds on her neck, which had been healing, and she had bled enough to turn her into a vampire despite his most earnest pleadings.

Worst of all, he had found that she had survived through into 1970, Real Time--and had had control of the psychic Sebastian Shaw. Shaw had eventually rebelled against her and taken his new love, Maggie Evans, to Wyndcliff Hospital and Sanitarium in Bangor so that she could fully recover from the savage vampire attacks (at least three), which had nearly cost her her life.

Unlike him, it seemed that Roxanne enjoyed being a vampire, enjoyed being a member of the living dead with a hunger for blood, enjoyed attacking her victims over and over, as she had attacked Maggie. It sickened him; she had always been a warm, loving, unselfish person when truly alive. Barnabas could only hope that someone had managed to destroy her between then and now, once and for all.

He could still recall when she had first risen; he had instructed Julia to put her to rest, but Angelique had intervened and made her fall asleep until after dark. When Julia had finally arrived at the crypt, she had discovered the coffin empty, then whirled upon feeling a malevolent presence nearby. Roxanne wore the lavender dress she had been buried in; her face had become feral and animalistic and she had come for Julia, arms out and her mouth open to reveal tiger-like fangs…

Because Angelique controlled Roxanne, he hadn't been able to find Julia after the attack until it was almost too late. And now that the girl in the _Enterprise_ party had died, it was only a matter of time until she, too, would rise as Roxanne had…and within three days, as he recalled. He wished could have avoided the whole horrifying incident, but all he could do now was advise Christine as to the best thing to do for their young friend in order to spare her the Hell he had been made to endure.

"I assume you know what will happen now that your Miss Davidson has died," Barnabas told her.

"I do," Christine confirmed. "I've read up on the subject."

"You must do it within three days or else she is doomed. What is more, it must be done before dark on the third day."

"I know," came the reply. "But it's not something I'm looking forward to."

"It's not a pleasant prospect, I know—but it must be done, in order for her to be at peace."

"I'll tell Dr. McCoy and we'll decide who's to do it and when, don't worry," she assured him.

"It should take only a short time; it is the actual deed which is distasteful," he finished.

Not long afterward the pair fell silent, not speaking during the final half-block or so. Barnabas again insisted on seeing Christine to her door, kissing her good night before turning to leave. "Keep me informed."

"Will do," she promised.

"Good night, Christine. Sleep well, take care of yourself—and think of me."

"I will…and you take care, too. Also, please thank Quentin for his hospitality."

"I will. Good night." With that, he was gone—again, a tad too soon and too strangely for her taste, but what mattered was that she was safely back at the Inn. Now she could find out what had happened with Spock and Lani. After changing clothes and briefly explaining why she was back early to Marisa Holloway, Christine went to the suite, Kirk, Spock and McCoy shared with Dickerson to speak with them.

"Thank God you're back, Christine!" the latter exclaimed, giving his friend and assistant a bear hug.

Once Christine got her breath back, she asked McCoy to fill her in on what had happened in her absence. He smiled and agreed, but thought it would be better for Spock if they could do it in his presence so that he would be reassured of her safety. She followed the Doctor into the next room, where Spock was still lying on the couch, but he seemed more like himself now. Kirk sat next to him and they were speaking animatedly. Of course, Christine knew that that could be due as much to his friends' presence as to the tranquilizer.

She approached the other two men; Kirk smiled and nodded in her direction. "Glad to see you back, Miss Chapel. Has Bones told you what happened?"

"Just a little. We decided to come in here to discuss the details so Spock would be reassured of my safety."

Just then, the Vulcan got into the conversation. "I am…pleased to see that you have returned safely, Christine. Are you all right?"

She seated herself next to Kirk in the second chair and smiled reassuringly at him. "Yes, Spock, I'm fine. Thank you. Now what is this I hear about your having such a bad nightmare that Dr. McCoy had to tranquilize you in order to calm you sufficiently?"

The First Officer winced and closed his eyes. "I…cannot discuss it again right now. Perhaps later this evening?"

"If that's what you want," she agreed with another warm smile.

"I can take Jim for a late dinner then so that you two can talk privately, Chris," McCoy offered, answering her unspoken question.

"Thanks, Leonard. How about telling me about Lani in the morning, then we can decide what to do?"

"All right with me," the CMO concurred.

With that, the group decided to watch a favorite holovid, _Fantasia_. There was one part showing the Devil and dead or evil things, so the Humans decided to fast-forward through that part in deference to Spock's still-fragile psychological state. Once the holo finished, the other two men stretched and prepared to leave after quick showers and a change into fresh clothes. The Captain and McCoy promised to bring back something for Spock and Christine; after taking their orders, they left, locking their doors behind them and leaving the latter pair alone.

"All right, Spock, we're alone. I'd like to hear about that nightmare now."

The Vulcan still seemed hesitant but agreed. "I only ask that you…join me on the couch. Sitting up, I mean," he explained. "It will be—difficult to tell, so I…may need you to—hold me at some point. That is, if you…do not object."

"Oh, no, Spock, of course not. I know how it must have seemed to you these last few days, but I do still care about you and will do all I can to help you."

The First Officer bowed his head, feeling color come into his cheeks. "Thank you, Christine. I—very much appreciate your thoughtfulness."

She merely smiled again as she sat down next to him on the couch. "All right, Spock, I'm listening."

The Vulcan then swallowed hard and began.

When he finished, Christine was almost as much in shock as Spock had been. "Oh, dear God…" she breathed softly, tightening her arms around the Vulcan. He was trembling again and holding her tightly as his head rested on her shoulder, but not as much or as tightly as he had hung onto Kirk. "No wonder it was so traumatic for you. But you must know that it was just a dream. That doesn't mean it will ever happen."

Spock lifted his head to face her. "I am a Vulcan, Christine. My people are telepaths. We rarely dream as Humans do, and when we do, they tend to be psychic dreams and therefore are likely to come true most of, if not all, the time. That is one reason I have been so concerned for your safety since you have been seeing Barnabas Collins. I do not generally put much stock in legends such as those in the Collins family, but after what happened to Ms. Davidson and this dream…" His voice trailed off. "Please do not see him again, Christine—at least not alone. I am convinced that you will be…in mortal danger if you do."

"Spock, your concern for me is appreciated, but Barnabas has never harmed me. I don't think he could, any more than you could. You are both gentle, kind and decent men."

The Science Officer again bowed his head, his cheeks coloring again. "Thank you again, Christine…but I hope you also know that I would never tell you a falsehood for my own gain. I would not even mention this dream if I did not believe there was ample cause for concern."

"Spock, with all due respect, I am very fond of Barnabas and intend to continue seeing him as long as we're here. You've given little or no indication up to this point of what you feel for me, if anything, so I'm acting accordingly. I can't wait forever for you to make up your mind, nor can I help noting that your…feelings only seemed to show up around the time I started seeing Barnabas. Are you going to deny that?"

"Yes, I am," he declared, keeping one arm around her while the hand of the free one lifted her chin to face him. "And _this_ is why." A moment later, warm and tenderly passionate lips claimed hers in a kiss which lingered so long that both participants were breathless after releasing each other, having to come up for air after about a minute or so. "_Now_ do you believe me?"

Quentin was waiting for his cousin when Barnabas returned. The older man seemed surprised at that, but did not question it because he sensed that Quentin wanted very much to speak with him, though he had no idea on what subject.

"May I speak with you, Barnabas?"

"May I ask what about?" Barnabas inquired.

"The actions of Christine's…friend Mr. Spock. What do you make of him?"

"I understand that he is a noted scholar and scientist, a computer expert, highly intelligent—even genius caliber—and renowned for both his scientific writings as well as his bravery during his military service in Starfleet."

Quentin nodded in acknowledgment. "What else do you know?"

"He is half-Human; his father is the senior Vulcan Ambassador to Earth and his mother a noted educator. Why do you ask?"

"Do you believe his dual heritage explains his atypical actions regarding Chris tine? She told us that they were simply friends, but his actions of late indicate deeper feelings. Since she has been…infatuated with him for some years, it's possible that he's now beginning to feel something for her—and if that's the case…" Quentin's voice trailed off, then he took a breath and continued, "You might lose her."

"I might not, too," Barnabas countered.

"Barnabas, be realistic. You've managed to conceal your…affliction so far, but how much longer do you think you're going to be able to keep it under wraps? If Christine herself isn't already suspicious, I feel sure that Spock is. It's as though he were warning you off," Quentin observed. "It seems improbable, but I would almost swear he was jealous of every moment you spend with her."

"I believe he is," the other man confirmed. "The looks he has given me sometimes when he thinks I don't notice, the way he bristles like an angry cat whenever I touch her in any way. It seems odd, when you consider that he _supposedly _doesn't care about her."

"He could be just in denial," Quentin suggested. "From what I've heard, he has a talent for that."

"Simply because he's half-Human?" Barnabas questioned.

"Not only that, but because he's likely feeling emotions he's always believed that no self-respecting Vulcan had any business feeling…but you remember what she told us about how he regards her."

"All too well, I'm afraid," Barnabas replied. "It is as though she has suddenly become very important, extremely valuable to him, unusually quickly."

"Particularly since you began seeing her," Quentin reminded him. "Do you think he knows you've slept with her? Maybe that's why he's so touchy."

"Quite possible," Barnabas agreed. "Especially since Christine tells me that he is telepa- thic."

"Do you think he knows what you are? That he's read your thoughts and doesn't want you near Christine, especially not alone, because he's convinced that you'll harm her?"

"Not that I know of, but I have to be careful. As you say, he is already suspicious of me. He has been from the start, and I can imagine what the content of his psychic dream must have been to cause him to go into shock—add that to the attack on the Davidson girl and her subsequent death. I warned Christine what would have to be done in order that the girl rest in peace; she has assured me that the matter would be taken care of before the deadline of dusk Friday."

"Their weapons can be set to dematerialize a body; do you think that would work as well as the conventional method? Certainly it's a lot less messy."

"I have no idea—but I also don't think we can afford to take a chance, either," Barnabas opined. "Or I would have suggested it to her."

"Better one of those methods than what you used to do…if not burial, you usually burned the bodies or disposed of them in the sea near Collinwood."

Barnabas winced at the thought of how many times he had done those things over the centuries; he had frankly lost count. Because he had found it so distasteful, he had eventually learned to only attack a person once and then take only a small amount of blood, such as a few ounces, so the person would merely become his slave and do his bidding.

However, if most or all of the blood was drained from the person, they simply died and did not rise to become vampires. In order to pass on the condition, blood had to be taken repeatedly until the person was nearly drained. It was also possible when the person did not get transfusions of new blood in time to offset the condition…within 24-48 hours.

It had taken him nearly that long to find Julia after Roxanne's attack on her in 1840 Real Time, and Angelique had hidden her away in the old lighthouse a short distance from Collinwood, refusing to tell him where she was after he saw through her pretense of not knowing. It wasn't until her servant, the gypsy Laszlo, came to the Old House looking for her, wearing Julia's genuine sapphire-and-pearl ring on his right hand, that Barnabas spotted it and strong-armed the knowledge out of him in order to discover Julia's whereabouts. Roxanne had been there when he arrived and had tried to stop him, yet he had stared her down and left, carrying a weak, semiconscious Julia in his arms.

It had been bad enough that Angelique had forced him to give up Roxanne…and when he had sent Julia to explain to her why he couldn't come see her any more, it had prompted Roxanne to come to him, demanding further explanation—and declaring that nothing and no one was going to stop them from being together.

A short time later they had gone into each other's arms and shared a fervent kiss, each professing their love, frantically breaking apart when Angelique had thrown open the doors of the drawing room, immediately deducing what had happened. She neither swallowed anything Barnabas said nor was she intimidated by Roxanne's declarations. Angelique had also re-opened the wounds he had made on Roxanne's neck, which had been healing, making her bleed enough to kill her and turn her into one of the living dead, then had taken control of her once she had risen, once more depriving him of a companion.

Angelique Bouchard had done some abominable things in their long, unfortunate association, but surely this was among the worst—and all because he, Barnabas, had refused her "love". He now doubted that she knew the meaning of the word. He was certain that no one who truly loved could possibly even contemplate causing the object of their affections such pain; they should sooner want to hurt themselves.

And she had been so paranoid that she had set up Julia to be attacked when Roxanne rose, then hidden her away so that he had been unable to find her until it was almost too late…partly because she had believed Julia in love with Barnabas and vice versa, despite his declaration that they were simply good friends and partly because Julia knew too much—not only about him but about Angelique herself.

Even at that, his caring for her had betrayed him, at least as far as Angelique was concerned. He had no idea how Julia had truly regarded him; she had always hidden her feelings behind a mask of professionalism—but he did know that she was no less a woman because of it, despite the fact that she had eschewed marriage and family in favor of her career. If only he hadn't been what he was…

Barnabas had seen no point in initiating a personal, romantic relationship with her because of his affliction—although he had always found her attractive: a most handsome woman. Because of his affection for her, he could never have harmed her…and during their association, there had been relatively few attacks since he had been able to obtain a more-or-less regular supply of blood through Julia, who, as a doctor, had had free access to it.

He had poured his heart out to her countless times, confessed his longing for a permanent companion, his crushing loneliness…and his hunger for a day when he and his someone special would walk together in the sun, hand-in-hand. Because of this, Barnabas didn't like to think how he might have caused her pain, having to stand by while he romanced Victoria, Maggie, Roxanne…all the while longing for him herself, but believing he could never want her. If that had been the case, he was truly sorry—but could do nothing to change matters now.

Her cure had only been a temporary one, but he had been immensely grateful that she had cared enough to even make the attempt to make him Human again. Even when she had been dying for real, he had reiterated that fact…and expressed his envy of her ability to truly die, truly lie in peace in one's grave. An ability which Angelique had taken from him almost five centuries ago.

Julia's last words to him had been designed to extract a promise that he would never stop looking for another who could find the proper element to make her cure permanent. So he had promised…but not until Christine did he find someone who made him _want_ to be cured. He had tried his best not to fall in love with her, but it had been impossible, like trying to stop a flood with one's bare hands. So it had happened—and if she decided against him, something Quentin had indicated as a distinct possibility if he were reading the Vulcan correctly, Barnabas didn't know how he would stand it.

Outwardly at least, he would wish her well, ever stand in her way…but inside, he would be devastated—again. All he would have left of her would be beautiful, bittersweet memories, precious yet painful because she would be gone from him. At least physically…but she would always be a part of his heart, never far from his thoughts, no matter how much time went by.

Shortly after their unexpected but most enjoyable interlude, Spock and Christine had the late dinner Kirk and McCoy had brought them, then went to bed… separately, of course, though it could definitely be said that they were strongly tempted to do it together. All the same, Christine still wasn't all that sure of Spock, although she was a lot more sure than she had been. If asked to choose between Spock and Barnabas, it would have been virtually impossible at this point in time. It would be necessary for one of them to do something one way or the other in order to facilitate a final decision on her part.

In the morning, the group discussed what to do regarding the disposition of Lani Davidson—who was to do it and when. Spock's remarks on the subject were so emphatic that not even Kirk could dissuade him from keeping an eye on her, starting from the morning of the third day following her death until dusk Friday, when she was likely to rise.

Spock was the strongest physically, which was ultimately the deciding factor, but the others objected for two reasons…one being that the Vulcan's psychological condition was still questionable after the trauma of the nightmare where he and Christine had become two of the undead. Part of the information that Christine had brought back was the fact that vampires were extraordinarily strong.

Even Vulcan strength might not be enough to control or keep such a creature at bay, so Kirk also insisted that Dickerson be there as backup, with both his phaser and the crucifix, to be on the safe side. Spock wasn't fond of the idea, but knew how stubborn Jim could be where the safety of his crew were concerned, particularly if said crew were also his close friends.

Deep down, however, Spock felt safer knowing he was not going to be alone for this dangerous assignment. Kirk, McCoy, Holloway and Christine would be within shouting distance if they should need help—but he would only call upon them if absolutely necessary. They all agreed that it was best if none of them entered the room under any circumstances once the sun had set…and to be doubly sure of their safety, both the doors and windows would be securely locked. But the intercom between the rooms would be left open, in order that they know when (or if) to intervene.

Now all they could do was wait—and it would be the longest wait of their lives. Not only for Spock and Dickerson, but every single one of them.

Spock and Dickerson took their places in Lani's room on the morning of the third day. Sunset officially arrived at 5:45 p.m. local time, allowing for the return to Standard Time, which had begun the previous Sunday morning. For most of the day their vigil was uneventful; Lani Davidson remained cold, still and lifeless, even though her body had not gone into _rigor mortis _as it normally would…but by no stretch of the imagination could this death possibly be considered normal.

The later in the day it got, the more apprehensive everyone became, particularly Spock and Dickerson. McCoy and Holloway were hard-pressed to keep the increasingly agitated Kirk and Christine from wearing holes in the carpet due to their incessant pacing. Both had horrific visions of Spock's nightmare coming true, albeit in a slightly different way.

Only by calling on every ounce of their self-control did the latter two manage not to run to the locked doors and open them, declaring that they would wait it out with Spock and Dickerson and Devil take the hindmost. At 5:15 the group looked at each other fearfully, all thinking the same thing—but Kirk was the one who voiced it.

"Spock, has anything happened yet? It's just half an hour until sunset, you know."

"No, sir," the Vulcan returned formally, his voice filtering through the open intercom, his cool demeanor belying the growing apprehension roiling beneath his serene surface. "But when it does, we will be ready," he assured both Kirk and everyone else with him.

"I hate his damnable waiting," the Captain groused. "I feel so helpless."

"It will be over soon, Jim," Spock returned, quiet affection in his voice, which he had lowered so only Kirk could hear. "And then Miss Davidson will be at peace."

But unknown to everyone, the night would not truly be over for hours to come, due to the occurrences which would take place within the next hour.

As soon as he himself rose, Barnabas went to the Inn, making sure to keep out of sight of the Vulcan and the Human male with the phaser and crucifix around his neck. Finally, roughly five minutes after official sunset, Spock reluctantly got up and made his way over to the bed where Lani Davidson's covered body lay. He threw the sheet back and moved to place the point of the stake over her heart, gently pressing it into her breast, moving his right hand, the one with the mallet in it, back for the strike.

That was when her eyes opened—feral, vulpine, terrible (and yet hypnotic) eyes--then unbelievably strong hands grasped the stake, attempting to move it, and succeeded…but not enough. The Vulcan forced himself to concentrate on his task, striking the stake sharply several times as Dickerson held the crucifix a short distance away from her. The thing which had been Lani Davidson hissed balefully, then writhed and screamed in anger and pain as Spock's blows reverberated in their ears and throughout the room…and because the intercom was open, the others heard everything that went on.

"Oh, my God. It's happening—_now_!" Christine breathed, well able to imagine the scene in the adjoining room. Outside, on the window ledge, Barnabas waited and watched with a mixture of pain and relief that the girl would be at peace…which was more than he could say for himself. That is, unless he managed to convince Christine and her companions to help him find a permanent cure for his affliction.

After what seemed like an eternity, the hideous, unearthly screaming and hissing was over—although in reality, only twenty minutes had passed on the chrono. It was a long moment before Kirk dared to approach the door, but the suspense and waiting were too much to endure any longer. (Unknown to anyone, Barnabas had moved inside the room, materializing behind the curtains hanging at the window, keeping his feet just far enough off the floor so that he could see but not be seen.)

The Captain knocked tentatively at the door, calling out softly. "Spock? Dickerson?"

The ensuing silence was so lengthy that Kirk was about to call out again when he heard the Vulcan reply, "It is over, Jim. You may come in now."

Kirk looked at the others gathered around him, the group tacitly agreeing that they would all go in together, steeling themselves for whatever they would see, knowing it wouldn't be pretty, to put it mildly…but truly believed they could handle the sight.

They were wrong.

When Kirk opened the door, a grisly sight met their eyes. Spock and his entire uniform were drenched with blood; Dickerson's was only slightly less so. Both stood next to the equally drenched bed and the body on it, a gory stake protruding from its chest. There was also a large bloodstain on the wall. Christine barely suppressed a scream at the frightful sight; the others just stood frozen in their tracks, eyes wide with horror. Only McCoy had enough presence of mind to speak—and even then, only a few words.

"Holy God…this place looks like a slaughterhouse!"

"That is because it is—or was, Doctor," the Vulcan replied, his voice almost too quiet for the Humans to catch. He still held the bloody mallet in his right hand. The only good thing about all this was that Lani Davidson would rest in peace, having been spared the Hell of vampirism. She would never roam the night with a lust for blood, searching for victims to ease her unholy hunger, never hide out in a casket by day, ever-fearful of discovery and being destroyed as Barnabas had done for centuries.

It would be a long time before either the Vulcan or Dickerson would forget either the feral, vulpine eyes or the long, sharp teeth which had jutted, animal-like, from her open mouth. But both had forced back their instinctive horror and did their assigned task, knowing that it was an act of mercy, not murder, however messy and unpleasant it might have been. But now that it was all behind him, Spock felt sickened, even nauseated, at the sight of so much blood. There was even a pool of it at his feet on the rug beside the bed. Not only he and Mr. Dickerson, but the bed and Ensign Davidson's body, were covered with it.

Once they had gathered enough control, the others approached to congratulate Spock on a job well done. "You did it, Spock. Ensign Davidson is at peace now," Kirk told him with a smile. The rest smiled and nodded in agreement, particularly when the Captain continued, "As you've said many times, it was 'the logical thing to do'."

"If you or Mr. Dickerson need counseling after this, Spock, just let me or Chris know and we'll do everything we can for you both," the Doctor told them in his gentlest voice.

"Thank you, Doctor," the Vulcan returned almost too quietly. "May I clean up now?"

The young Security officer smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Of course," McCoy told him, both he and Kirk refraining from touching their Vulcan friend at this point, having to settle for verbal comfort and reassurance.

"Bones, call Room Service and get extra towels, sheets, pillows and pillowcases. Spock and Mr. Dickerson are going to need them, just as we're going to need to wrap up Ensign Davidson's body. Once we get back to the ship, the best thing to do is vaporize it, then explain that it was her request that she be vaporized by phaser because of the manner in which she died. Her medical file will be sealed once you put in your final report. No autopsy will be needed since we all know what she died of. However, all we'll officially be able to tell her family is that she died in the line of duty…which is true. That's all they need to know at this point."

McCoy nodded solemnly, knowing the next duties would be his. As CMO, it was also his responsibility to inform the Captain of when he had finished, so that Kirk could make the necessary arrangements, including contacting Ensign Davidson's family and the proper authorities on her home planet of Alpha Centauri Seven.

"I have one final question, Spock," McCoy asked as the Vulcan headed for the bathroom. "When would you say she truly died?"

"My internal clock recorded the time of true death as 1800 hours, Doctor." With that, Spock disappeared into the bathroom. The others heard the lock click and knew what the next move was to be. Christine got him some clean clothes, but Kirk was the one who handed them in to him once he was done showering.

A short time later, a maid brought up the requested items, including some cleaning fluid for the wall and carpet. After answering her knock, McCoy said to leave the stuff outside the door, that he would pick it up. The girl privately wondered why she was not allowed in the room, but it was not her place to ask why, simply do her job.

After making sure the maid had gone, the Doctor reached out to grab the cart with the requested items, pull it inside, then carefully locked the door again. The stake was pinning Lani's body to the bed, so Dickerson was told to remove it so they could move the body off the bed. After he had done so, the bed was thoroughly stripped and cleaned by McCoy and Christine.

They wrapped the body in two sheets and set it aside temporarily; Kirk and Dickerson together moved the damaged mattress to one side and simply covered the box spring with a sheet and extra blanket from the closet, then a pillow and pillowcase from the cart. After rummaging through the closet, the Doctor came up with a large, heavy denim laundry bag with a drawstring closing, sticking the bloody bedclothes, pillow and all, into it—then handed it in to Spock. It would not be ready for disposal until his and Dickerson's bloody clothes and towels had all been accounted for.

Not long afterward Christine scrubbed both the large bloodstain off the wall and the area of the carpet beside the bed. She had just finished when Spock emerged from the bathroom, both looking and feeling more like himself in one of his favorite Vulcan robes. The Vulcan handed the laundry bag to Dickerson…then the latter took it into the bathroom with him. The bloody, splintered stake had been disintegrated via phaser beam.

McCoy fetched some clothes for the younger man, handed them in to him, then called the ship to beam down a gurney and a med-team to accompany Lani Davidson's body back to the ship and into temporary stasis in the morgue. Once everything was ready, the Doctor sent the occupied gurney and the med-team with strict orders not to discuss their findings or opinions with anyone but himself or the Captain; otherwise they would be put on report. They nodded silently and the latter said, "Energize."

This time, when the group looked around, the room had taken on at least a semblance of normalcy. By this time it was full dark and the room lights were on, but dimly, the equivalent of candlelight; everyone's faces took on a ruddy glow.

"Thank God that's over," Kirk opined feelingly.

Spock and the others, including Dickerson when he came out, heartily concurred.

"I only wish we could find out who did this and why—then we could wrap this thing up," the Captain remarked.

They whirled in shock when an all-too-familiar, cultured male voice with a touch of a British accent answered him. "I did it," the voice confessed. "But I will not show myself until you agree to hear me out, reserve judgment until after I have told my story." The voice held sadness and regret. "I am confessing because I believe in taking responsibility for my actions, but I assure you that in the case of the unfortunate Miss Davidson, I had little choice but to do what I did—and give you my word that none of the rest of you will be harmed. In fact, I truly abhor my condition and hope you will be willing to help me try to reverse it."

By this time, Christine had recognized the voice and all the blood had left her face. "Barnabas! Oh my God—is that you?"

Both the female Doctor and young Security officer were thoroughly dumfounded. Neither Kirk, Spock nor McCoy had been surprised, however; they had, in fact, suspected this very thing from the start…and now everyone else knew, including Christine. Spock could only hope it would not be too much of a shock for her.

"We can't make any promises or guarantees, sir, but assure you that we _will_ do all we can for you—but only _after_ we've heard your story. And for us to hear your story, you must show yourself to us," Kirk informed him.

"Very well," the voice returned softly. A moment later Barnabas Collins stepped from behind the curtains, clad as usual in a dark suit and tie, his high-collared Iverness cloak, his wolf's-head cane in one hand and an onyx ring on the index finger of that same hand.

"Would you mind explaining yourself, Mr. Collins?" Kirk inquired, politely but firmly. "I just lost one of my best Security people because of you, so I'm entitled to an explanation, if nothing else. I am also assuming that my original guesses about you were correct."

"They were, Captain Kirk," Barnabas confirmed. "I am indeed the _original _Barnabas Collins—and I am a vampire."

"Ohhh…" Spock's sensitive ears heard Christine's soft cry and he caught her as she fainted. He placed her on the couch, then made her comfortable before she came to and they all faced the newcomer once again, more than ready to receive the answers they sought—and directly from the one responsible for the attacks they had been assigned to investigate.

"Spock, grab your tricorder, check him over. This will be the story of the century!" the Captain exclaimed. "Unless you would prefer that we keep it classified, Mr. Collins," Kirk offered.

Spock had followed orders regarding the tricorder and was getting no readings whatsoever. At first he was sure something was wrong with it, then realized that creatures such as Barnabas would not register any life signs—that magic was the only thing animating his body, because to all intents and purposes, it was dead. That explained a lot of things to all of them. Maybe now Christine would take him seriously…at least _he_ was truly alive!

"I would appreciate it, Captain," came the reply. "Now, if all of you are ready, I shall begin."

It was some hours later that Barnabas and his listeners took a break from his lengthy explanation. Spock could only hope that this knowledge would not prompt another nightmare similar to the one he had had a couple of nights ago; the others reacted with a mixture of horror and sympathy to Barnabas' story, particularly when they learned how it had come about.

"Whoo! Remind me never to become involved with a witch…or a woman who dabbles in the occult," the Doctor exclaimed. "I sure as hell don't want to end up like you, Barnabas. That Angelique sounds—literally—like a fatal woman to cross."

Kirk silently agreed with McCoy even as Barnabas replied, "I doubt that that is very likely, Dr. McCoy, particularly in this day and age. However, stranger things have happened, so I would still be careful if I were you."

"It still seems strange to me that even with all the chances you had during our dates, that you never attacked me, Barnabas," Christine remarked.

"As I have said, I could not bear to harm you, Christine. You are far too precious to me for me to want to turn you into what I am," he explained. "Besides, I keep a goodly supply of blood around, so I…had some before my dates with you, which enabled me to control my craving while we were together," he finished.

"You said you very much disliked being a vampire," Kirk put in. "Is there any way it can be reversed?"

"I am coming to that," Barnabas returned. "I had a dear friend at one time who was a noted physician; she developed a serum which was supposed to turn me back into a Human again."

"So what happened? Why are you still…what you are?" Kirk wondered.

"My friend, Dr. Julia Hoffman, could never find the proper agent to make the effects of her serum permanent. It worked—but only temporarily…and there was a limited supply, so shortly after she died, I—reverted back to my former state. Before that, however, she made me promise never to stop looking for someone who could come up with the necessary agent to make my reversion back to Human permanent."

"Do you have her notes or the formula?" McCoy wondered. "If so, it just might be possible…" His voice trailed off.

"Oh, yes, she left me her notes and the formula," Barnabas confirmed. "I would have to bring them to you and let you study them—probably tomorrow evening."

It still seemed ludicrous to them all that they were even considering such a thing as helping a vampire become Human again, much less discussing it…but if it meant that the attacks would stop permanently, it would be worth it.

"You said you had access to blood because of her," Christine remarked. "Why not just use it to prevent the attacks?"

"Because I can only obtain a limited supply each month—and to make it last, I must ration it, so you know what that means. That is why I told you my story, in the hope that you could understand my predicament and perhaps help me find a permanent cure."

"I can't promise or guarantee anything, Mr. Collins, but if you'll allow me access to your friend Dr. Hoffman's notes and the formula, I'll be happy to do what I can," McCoy offered.

"And if anyone can do it, Leonard can," Christine added. "Best of all, Spock and I will be helping him. If you're willing, we can start while we're here. Are there any laboratories around that we can use?" she asked.

Barnabas smiled and nodded. "My cousin, Quentin, has one. If I asked him, I am sure he would be willing to let you use it—for a modest fee."

"Name it," McCoy replied.

"One hundred credits a week?" Barnabas inquired.

"What do you think, Jim? Can we afford it?" the Doctor asked hopefully.

"Perhaps…if it has all the proper equipment--_and_ if we can get permission to stay here longer. We can't have the _Enterprise_ out of service too long; as it is, we would likely have to put Scotty and Sulu in command for any short-term missions. Not to mention report our progress every few days in order for Command to be willing to authorize it," Kirk replied.

"Then let's get to it," the Doctor returned. "Barnabas, you come back tomorrow as soon as you can; bring Dr. Hoffman's notes and formula so Chris, Spock and I can go over everything…and ask your cousin for the use of his lab while we're here. Then let us know what he says—and we'll contact Starfleet Command and see if we can get the extra time and money."

Barnabas smiled and nodded again. "I will. I cannot thank you all enough for your willingness to help me. I was certain you would feel duty-bound to destroy me, as you had to do with your unfortunate Miss Davidson. Most regrettable that that incident could not have been prevented."

"If it means stopping the attacks and saving lives, you would be surprised at what we would do, Mr. Collins," Kirk returned with a smile. "Now, I've got to go contact Starfleet Command, see how much more time and money I can wangle out of them. We'll see you tomorrow night."

Everyone stood up and stretched, then Barnabas took his leave after promising to return the following evening with Julia's notes and formula…and (hopefully) Quentin's permission to use his lab. Spock took Christine to her room, wanting to ask what she would do should Barnabas become fully Human again—who she would choose—but found that he didn't think he could handle hearing the answer, particularly if she chose against him.

Not that he could blame her if she did, considering what he had put her through…but the Vulcan hoped that she knew that it hadn't been a deliberate slight, that he had merely been protecting himself emotionally, not trying to alienate her…and he could imagine how it must have seemed to her. But he had always found her attractive, even if he hadn't been able to act on his attraction until now. He could only hope that she would give him another chance to show it.

Upon arrival, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it in a very Old World manner, as Barnabas usually did, making his good-nights after stroking her lips with a finger. "Sleep well, Christine. I will see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, Spock," she returned quietly, touching his cheek and smiling before opening her door and going inside. As soon as the door closed, the Vulcan turned on his heel and returned to his own room, retiring upon arrival—that is, after a shower and changing into sleeping-clothes. His two friends came in an hour later and did the same; Dickerson bedded down on the sofa bed in the living room as usual.

Kirk lay awake for a time after speaking with Admiral Komack at Starfleet Command, just watching his Vulcan friend sleep, watching for signs of distress even as the Doctor snored contentedly a few feet away. He sensed that Spock was slowly but surely falling in love with Christine; it would devastate him to lose her to Barnabas should the serum work and the latter become fully Human again.

He recalled Barnabas' declaration of love for Christine, but also his statement that it would be her decision…he would not force the issue any more than Spock would. He could only hope for the best, even while expecting the worst. If Christine refused him, Spock might never want to risk rejection again and possibly die in _pon farr_ because he would not bond with anyone else.

It wasn't every day that a woman had two men in love with her, especially when one of them was a vampire trying to become Human again for her sake and the other a Vulcan who normally eschewed emotions of any kind. But even Vulcans had to marry at some point, and Spock could certainly do worse than Christine. In fact, he already had—but that was ancient history.

In the meantime, however, they had to do all they could to help Barnabas…and consequently, themselves and others. It hadn't been easy to convince Komack, although he had managed—but that news could wait until morning. Meanwhile, it was best that they all get as much sleep as possible because he sensed that they were going to need all they could get. Not just for this night, but all the nights to come for the foreseeable future. A few minutes later, the Captain was deeply asleep, having joined his friends in dreamland.

The others were pleased to learn that Fleet Command had granted them additional time and funding; even at that, they only had four weeks to finish their mission. All Kirk had said was that they had come upon some promising leads pertaining to their investigation and that they needed the extra time and money to follow up on them. Best of all, they even knew some people here who were willing to help them—two members of the illustrious yet infamous Collins family... the "present" Barnabas and his cousin Quentin.

Despite why they had originally come, however, no one on the _Enterprise_ team believed that Command would swallow what they had learned about Barnabas or their true purpose in staying longer...to attempt to cure him of his vampirism. McCoy, Christine and Spock had carefully studied Dr. Hoffman's notes and formula, all believing that a permanent cure for Barnabas' affliction was within the realm of possibility.

Quentin had also generously granted them the use of part of his lab for the agreed-upon weekly fee. When he wasn't busy with his own experiments, he even did all he could to help the others with theirs. As in any experiment, they had breakthroughs and they had setbacks, such as the discovery that Barnabas was allergic to something in the permanence agent, so McCoy and the others had to synthesize that ingredient and then try it again, see how Barnabas reacted to it.

Once that had been taken care of, they needed to work out a means of his obtaining a sufficient supply of the new serum long enough to do him good. In that case, Barnabas could either inject himself or Quentin could inject him as needed. McCoy and the others had determined that it would take regular, twice-weekly injections for a period of roughly two years to destroy all the aberrant cells in Barnabas' body which made him what he was, gave him the craving for blood and the inability to be out in daylight.

If anyone asked about the injections, both of them could claim that Barnabas had food allergies and that the twice-weekly injections were designed to offset those allergies, not to mention his "sensitivity" to natural light. They would also erase his inability to die naturally, but Barnabas considered that well lost if it meant he could live a normal Human life again.

The closer they got to the final version of the serum, the more apprehensive Spock became, yet he knew that he would soon have to take a chance and ask Christine just where he stood with her. He had done all he could to show his feelings for her, within the limits of his Vulcan sensibilities, and could only hope that it was enough for her. But she had never discussed it with him since that one initial time, so Spock had no way of knowing for sure.

Barnabas was very bit as unsure of her as Spock was, since Christine hadn't indicated anything to him one way or the other either...but at this point he had a better chance, at least in the Vulcan's mind, since he had already confessed his intentions regarding her. This, more than anything, was what made Spock so apprehensive. All he could do was his best, and if that wasn't enough, he would simply have to accept it. At least outwardly, although a part of him never would.

He may even have to have a talk with Barnabas Collins on the subject at the first opportunity, obtain his thoughts and determine if he had a fair chance or not. Particularly since they were getting closer with every passing day to Barnabas having a normal life again—and if he had a normal life again, the Vulcan knew what that would mean for him, as the Humans would say: "diddly-squat". No wife, no family...and worst of all, no Christine to be wife to him and help provide him with said family.

It was one thing to be distant and professional with her by choice, but this act would be strictly enforced. He would have to endure seeing her be wife to another, quite possibly having a family with him...and never be able to hold, touch or kiss her ever again. However difficult the former may have been, the latter would be infinitely more so.

Particularly if he had to listen to her rhapsodize about how happy she was with Barnabas Collins—something which would be well-nigh unendurable to Spock because it wouldn't be him. The fact that no decision had been made either way was beside the point as far as Spock was concerned. He was convinced that he knew what the outcome would be, what her decision would be, and would not be persuaded otherwise, no matter how much either of his friends tried.

Both finally gave up trying to change his mind; it was truly a lost cause. Privately, however, both were just as convinced that matters were just as likely to transpire in the Vulcan's favor as against him...yet only time would tell who would be proven right.

Finally, ten days into the designated month, McCoy felt secure enough to be able to tell Barnabas that he had perfected the new serum and that his anti-vampirism injections could resume. Of course, they would likely be even more painful than they originally were as his body once again began to revert back to being Human, and it would take most of the night for him to feel the full effects of the shot, but if it worked the way Julia and McCoy intended, Barnabas would be able to walk in the sunlight again...and have an appetite for real, solid food again.

The initial injection would last three days, roughly 72 hours, but another would be necessary before the end of the third day in order to continue the changeover and so on. Near the end of two years, the injections could gradually be phased out and at some point shortly after that, would no longer be necessary. Barnabas would be fully Human again...and best of all, age normally again.

Of course, they would not be around to see that. They would have to keep in touch with the two Collinses and monitor Barnabas' progress through Quentin after leaving Earth and resuming their deep-space missions. Spock fervently hoped that he would not have to wait that long to discover what Christine's choice would be. It was difficult enough as it was, feeling as he did about her, without the uncertainty as to where he stood hanging over his head. Perhaps he would be able to speak with Barnabas about Christine after they saw how the initial anti-vampirism injection went. He would have to wait and see what happened...then, if all went well, act accordingly and maybe even find out what he wanted to know, once and for all.

As it turned out, it was the evening before the first injection was to be administered that Spock and Barnabas found themselves alone for a short time. It was for that reason that Spock considered it logical to take this opportunity to speak privately with his erstwhile rival.

"Mr. Collins…Barnabas…while we have the opportunity, may I speak privately with you?" the Vulcan asked.

Barnabas seemed startled for a moment, but recovered quickly. He smiled and said, "Of course, Mr. Spock. What would you like to discuss?"

"If it is not too personal, I would like to—discuss Christine…Miss Chapel," the First Officer all but forced out, doing his best not to blush.

"What about her?" Barnabas inquired.

"Has she…indicated—her intentions to you?" Spock continued.

"Intentions?" Barnabas echoed.

"How she—feels toward you," the Science Officer made himself say. "I…know how you—regard her."

"I really couldn't say," the other man replied. "Though I…prefer to believe that she—still thinks highly of me, despite her knowledge of what I am. What about you? Have you any idea how she…regards _you_?"

"I—also prefer to believe that she still has…deep feelings for me, but I—cannot be sure since she has been…seeing you," the Vulcan confessed.

"If I may ask, when did you first notice that she—harbored romantic feelings for you?" Barnabas asked carefully.

Spock hesitated for a time before explaining what had happened during the Psi 2000 incident where Christine had confessed her love for him and how her overtures had made him feel. "But that was…some time ago. I have no idea if she still—feels the same toward me or not, since I have always…kept her at a distance."

"Why, if you are as attracted to her as you claim?" Barnabas wondered.

"Because I am a Vulcan. Vulcans are…a very private people, and we do not—show overt interest in a…member of the opposite sex," Spock explained.

Barnabas naturally had other questions, but sensed the difficulty his Vulcan companion was having discussing such a personal subject, so he refrained from inquiring further, since he surmised that it wouldn't do any good.

"If I were in your position, Spock, I would ask her directly—or have someone else who's close to both of you ask on your behalf," he suggested. "Considering what you have told me, the latter might be easier for you…but it would have more impact if you could manage to tell her yourself, as I did." He sighed. "Though what I am doing arming the competition, I shall never know."

Spock raised a quizzical eyebrow at the reference but didn't question it. A few moments later, the others started coming in, so the two men separated until they were a safe distance apart, neither mentioning their conversation or its content for some time after it had taken place.

After the injection had been given, McCoy thought it best to keep an eye on Barnabas in case of complications—and though he seemed to be in great pain for a while, moaning and writhing, the Doctor assured the others that that was normal, simply his body beginning its reversion back to Human…and that it would eventually fade and he would be able to sleep normally.

It was all Christine could do not to go to him; his writhing and moaning tore at her heart as much as it did whenever it had happened to Spock. It wasn't until nearly morning that Barnabas settled down. At first she thought he was in his usual vampiric sleep mode, but McCoy told her otherwise…that if she didn't believe him, to check the monitor readings, which were near-normal for a Human.

Barnabas slept until early afternoon; upon awakening, he was stunned to see daylight coming in the window and note that he was still all right. "It works! It works!" he exclaimed, happier than he'd ever been in his recollection. "Doctors, Captain, Mr. Spock! _It works_!" All came in to join him, pleased beyond words that they had been able to help him.

"How can I thank you enough? All of you," the overjoyed Barnabas almost gushed, hugging the stuffing out of the nearest person—Christine. She deftly extricated herself, tears of happiness misting her eyes at his obvious joy. "I never thought to ever feel this way again…ever see the sun again! Just wait until I tell…or better yet, _show_—Quentin!"

"You don't have to wait," the Captain told him with a smile. "Because here he is." With that, as if on cue, Quentin Collins entered and saw his older cousin as he had never thought to ever see him, awake and alive…and during the day! The younger man rushed to his cousin and gave him a bear hug, both misty-eyed with happiness. They could only hope that there would be enough serum to last until Barnabas became fully Human again.

"Don't worry," McCoy said, as if reading their thoughts. "We'll see to it that there is. If nothing else, we'll make sure to send Quentin the necessary ingredients or tell him where he can get them in this area, so he can always have a fresh batch of serum on hand for Barnabas." McCoy's grin was so wide that it threatened to break his face; Kirk and Christine's were, too.

With a part of him, Spock was pleased as well. If he hadn't been so concerned regarding Christine, his secret pleasure would have equaled that of the others.

"How long may I expect this to last, Doctor?" Barnabas asked.

"At least 48 hours, possibly as many as 72, yet I suggest you be back here for the next injection before the end of the third day, as I mentioned earlier, so that the changeover may continue."

"Oh, I will, I will," he assured McCoy. "But until then…?"

"Do whatever you like. Do whatever any normal Human male would do—eat, drink, date…" All looked at Christine at this point; she blushed and bowed her head modestly.

"Christine?" Barnabas murmured quietly. "May I ask you something?"

Spock held his breath, uncertain of what Barnabas was going to say.

The ACMO lifted her head slowly. "Yes?"

"May we go to the beach tomorrow morning—walk, sunbathe, have a picnic? I was never able to ask you before, but now…" His voice trailed off, then resumed. "I would be honored if you would accompany me."

Once Christine got over the initial shock, she accepted happily. "Yes, Barnabas, I'd love to. I'd just need to know some of your favorite foods."

He had to think for a while; it had been so long since he had had any solid food…but he finally managed to think of a few—and she promised to have them ready for him.

Meanwhile, Barnabas found himself ravenously hungry…and for regular food! "You know, I am positively famished! Let's all have lunch," he suggested. And within 90 minutes, after all had showered and changed, they had done just that.

A most enjoyable time was had by all—or at least most of the individuals present. Barnabas ordered one of his favorite foods, T-bone steak, medium-rare with onions, and when it arrived, he savored every bite, washing it down with red wine, the expression on his face that of pure bliss.

"Mmm…marvelous! Never thought I would ever taste this again," he rhapsodized.

Christine sat next to him, his free hand squeezing hers at every opportunity even as she ate her own meal with equal relish. Spock sat on her other side, only taking occasional bites of his own repast. He was concentrating mostly on Christine's warmth and nearness, the smell of her womanhood and perfume… He had also noticed Barnabas holding her hand, his heart constricting with pain as he wished mightily that he could be doing it himself.

He _had_ considered Barnabas' advice, however, and fully intended to follow it at the earliest opportunity. It was imperative that he stop wishing and act to make his wishes a reality, however difficult it might prove to be. In other words, not "put his wishbone where his backbone ought to be," as his Human friends might say.

But being Vulcan, he could not ask her here, publicly. He had to wait for a time when they would be alone…but by the same token, he must do that without waiting too much longer or he would lose her for sure—and for all time. He also thought of the old Terran saying that Jim and the Doctor had quoted during one of their last private talks: "Faint heart never won fair lady."

Not too much later, the lunch was over and they returned to the Inn.

Kirk decided to take a nap, as did Quentin; McCoy would be monitoring Barnabas again. (Marisa Holloway, her work done, had beamed back up to the ship some time ago with Lani Davidson's body.) Thus was Spock left alone with Christine. He knew that this was the time he had waited for, so he made his move while he still had the nerve. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but it proved to be the most emotionally rewarding in the end.

"Christine, I…must speak privately with you before you join Dr. McCoy," the Vulcan remarked quietly.

"Yes, Spock?" She turned to face him.

"I—would like to spend…some private time with you as well."

"Doing what?" she inquired.

"Perhaps—a holovid, then dinner at the Inn afterward," he suggested. "Maybe even…a walk in the moonlight. I understand that there is—supposed to be a…full moon out within 48 Standard hours."

She smiled. "Sounds nice. When?"

"The day after tomorrow, at approximately 1500 hours, when you are…rested from your—date with Barnabas."

"I think I'd like that," she agreed, her smile widening. "See you then."

He reached to stop her as she was about to leave. "There is something else," he told her.

"What?" she asked.

"This," he replied, moving to take her into his arms and kiss her deeply and thoroughly, until both were breathless.

It was as though a supernova exploded in their heads at the first touch of their lips; Spock found himself tightening his embrace, most reluctant to release the woman  
in his arms, just as Christine discovered that she didn't want Spock to let her go…and neither did she want him to stop kissing her. When he finally did, roughly a minute later, both were flushed with a mixture of surprise and desire at the intensity of their feelings.

"Well, Spock! You certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet when the mood strikes you! May I ask what brought this on?"

"I…wanted to do it," he told her simply. "I have—wished to do it for some time."

"Not simply because of…Barnabas?" she asked.

"I—do not need him to realize how…extraordinary you are." The Vulcan decided not to mention that the very thing he was doing was acting on Barnabas' advice—at least not at this point.

"Well…thank you, Spock. I'm glad you think so. I must go now. See you day after tomorrow."

"Until then, Christine."

Christine still seemed dazed as she left the room, but Spock had been encouraged by her eager response to his kiss. Besides, something had told him that he had better kiss her again while he had the chance, before Barnabas did it again on his date with her the following day. But the Vulcan knew that he still wasn't out of the woods yet with her, as it were—wouldn't be until Christine made her final decision between the two of them, and the Vulcan was determined that whatever he had to do, she would choose _him_.

Christine spent the rest of the evening preparing for her date with Barnabas—the first since the beginning of his re-conversion back to Human. She fixed his favorite foods and figured which beach outfit to wear, something she had not brought with her for obvious reasons and consequently never thought she would need.

Fortunately she knew Nyota's personal comm code number, which would put her in direct contact with her friend. Nyota would know where to find everything. Calling Ny was the next-to-last thing she did before retiring (Barnabas had called about an hour ago and told her he was picking her up early; she was pleased to see that his comm was now in visual mode). She suspected that he wanted to make his first day in the sun in literally ages last as long as possible…and who could blame him?

She flipped her communicator open and said, "Frequency NU-1228," using her Bantu friend's initials and birthdate to reach her without having to go through the Gamma shift Communications Officer, who was as much a busybody as she was efficient, so it was best not to take any unnecessary chances.

"Nyota here. What do you need, Chris?" she asked.

Christine was stunned. "How did you know it was me?"

The dark woman laughed. "You only call me on this frequency when you need something," Uhura reminded her. "What is it?"

"I have a date to go to the beach tomorrow and need a proper outfit. The sky-blue capri pants should be fine, along with my blue and white midriff blouse and teal-blue windbreaker, then maybe some dark glasses and sunscreen. I'd really appreciate it if you'd get it all together for me and beam it down ASAP, since I'm leaving early in the morning."

"Isn't it rather late in the year to do such a thing, Chris? It's November now, you know."

"Perhaps, but my date says he's lived here all his life and can tell when the seasons change—or at least when it's going to be warmer than normal," Christine explained. "If nothing else, we'll just picnic on the beach and listen to the radio or something."

Uhura sighed. "Okay, give me half an hour to go through your things to find everything, then go to the Transporter Room and beam it down to you. Which reminds me, I'll need your coordinates, please."

An hour later Christine had all the requested belongings, including a recent holo-novel Nyota had included just in case she wanted to read. Christine doubted it, knowing how Barnabas usually was when they were alone, but one could never tell. The cooler would keep the food fresh and the drinks hot or cold for up to 24 hours, so she set it out near her door, then prepared for bed.

She was surprised to see Barnabas in navy blue clamdigger pants and earthtone sandals with an open royal blue and gold floral Hawaiian shirt covering a regular blue T-shirt. "My cousin's," he explained. "We're about the same size. Now we must get going. Where is the cooler?" he asked after giving her a kiss in greeting.

He picked it up after she had gestured toward it and carried it to the rented aircar waiting outside, then opened the door to assist her in boarding. "Your chariot, my lady."

"Oh, you!" Christine laughed as he closed the door behind her, then went to put the cooler in the rear storage compartment. "Did you bring along some music so we could listen as we eat?"

"Music? Oh yes. I brought Quentin's tape deck and some instrumental tapes," Barnabas explained. She knew the latter had a tape deck, but it was built into his stereo system and Quentin's wasn't. He named some classical composers from the 18th century as well as some current artists.

"Did you sleep well?" she inquired.

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I even dreamed of you."

"I can imagine how long it's been since you've done that," Christine remarked.

"Too long," Barnabas agreed. "Just as I can imagine how long it's been since you have been on a beach," he finished.

"At least not since my last shore leave," she replied, "and that was three months ago, shortly before reporting to the ship for my new assignment."

"Did you go with Mr. Spock?" he wondered.

Christine's expression was a mixture of horror and astonishment. "Oh, no! Are you kidding? You have to practically shoot him out a photon tube to get him off the ship! Examining and cataloging the flora of a given planet is more Spock's style. He's the original workaholic. Besides, he was on Vulcan at the time and I was on Earth."

"May I ask why?"

"Why what?"

"Why was Mr. Spock on Vulcan?"

"He was attempting to erase his emotions with _Kolinahr_, the Vulcan ritual which supposedly eliminates all emotion."

Barnabas shook his head in bewilderment at this, sensing that he didn't want to know the whole story as to why Spock had considered it necessary to go through _Kolinahr_, then said, "What does 'workaholic' mean?"

"A person who's addicted to work," Christine explained.

"Who did you go with on your leave, then?" Barnabas asked.

"A girlfriend of mine, the senior Communications Officer aboard ship."

"Have you not tried to induce Mr. Spock to accompany you?"

"Of course, many times. He usually just says that Vulcans don't take shore leave and lets it go at that."

Barnabas sighed. "But he must do _something_ to relax."

"Oh, yes—he has a Vulcan lyre, which he plays and composes songs on," Christine answered.

"Have you ever heard him play?"

"Occasionally. He's very good…but Dr. McCoy says that Spock still doesn't relax nearly enough."

"Do you agree?"

"Of course, but getting Spock to relax is like pulling teeth—very difficult, even when he needs it most. Usually _especially_ when he needs it most. So many times Dr. McCoy has sworn that he's going to tie Spock down and sit on him if he doesn't start relaxing more!" Christine laughed and shook her head. "Of course, since he's stronger than either of us, he'd have to be sedated first." She then realized that her escort had fallen silent. "Sorry, Barnabas. Didn't mean to go on so much about Spock."

"It's not your fault. I was the one who asked about him," Barnabas pointed out. "However, I _would_ appreciate not hearing any more about him for the foreseeable future."

"Quite understandable," his companion returned, this time reaching out to squeeze _his_ hand. "We'll talk about other things now."

And they did—each other's favorite musical pieces, places they'd been or wanted to go, things like that. Within half an hour, the couple arrived at the beach, laying out a black blanket with gold striping and placing the cooler on it. It was a calm, fairly warm day, one of the rarities in Maine this late in the year, but there was enough of a nip in the air that both Christine and Barnabas decided against swimming, despite the fact that each had worn bathing suits under their outer clothing just in case.

"The water is most likely cold anyway," the latter said. "And after so many years of being cold, I much prefer to feel the warmth of the sun on my body and the warm, sweet softness of a beautiful woman beside me." He reached up to stroke her cheek.

Christine bushed and lowered her head. "Why don't you get the music started and I'll set up the food?"

Barnabas seemed disappointed but moved to comply. They then talked more about themselves and their lives, Christine carefully steering around the subject of Spock for her companion's sake. Instead, she talked about virtually everything else but, hoping he appreciated her efforts.

When he complimented her on her cooking, Christine again blushed and thanked him, unable to help thinking of when she had fixed food for Spock and how he had reacted upon calming down after his initial outburst of throwing the first bowl of plomeek soup she had brought out his door to crash against the Deck 5 bulkhead. Later on in his quarters, he had been every bit as gentle and tender as Barnabas when he brushed her tears away. In spite of herself, Christine couldn't help thinking of Spock and both his touch and his kiss.

It wasn't fair to Barnabas; he deserved her full attention…yet Spock was all she could think about. Damn it! Why did he have to get interested in her at virtually the same time as Barnabas? She was brought back to reality by the latter's warm lips brushing her ear after moving her hair aside. "What are you thinking about, Christine?"

For a long time Christine couldn't bring herself to answer, then replied quietly, "Something—or someone—I shouldn't be thinking about when I'm with you. You deserve my full attention."

"I understand," her companion assured her. "No need to apologize. It's not surprising, given your feelings for him."

"If only it was just that," she lamented. 'Now he's starting to feel for _me_."

"I see," Barnabas replied. "And you still feel for him."

"For many years," she confessed. "More years than I care to count…but only now has he seemed to notice me—which bothers me, because of you. You've made me feel like more of a woman than I have in years, more cherished and desired…yet—"

"Yet he is the one you love," Barnabas finished solemnly.

"Yes, God help me, he is. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't, especially now. If it wasn't for Spock, it would be frighteningly easy for me to fall in love with you." Her tone was apologetic. "And I sense that you had intended to formally propose, so I want you to know how much I regret being unable to marry you."

Barnabas put a hand on her cheek; she covered it with one of her own as tears misted her eyes. "Again, don't apologize. I understand. It's painful to me, but I understand. I ask only one thing…let me have this day with you, let me love you as if there were no tomorrow, give me some beautiful memories of you to cherish."

There was so much love, so much tenderness, in Barnabas' voice that Christine could not refuse him. Shortly thereafter, he kissed her deeply, then lowered her to the blanket after moving the cooler and tape deck aside. She forced thoughts of Spock away temporarily and gave herself fully to Barnabas, the taped instrumental music becoming the soundtrack for their romantic yet most erotic interlude.

Barnabas returned her to the Inn around 1600 hours, both of them slightly sunburned and pleasantly tired—from both the outing and their lovemaking. He again took her to her door and kissed her hand in parting. "Thank you for a wonderful day, Christine. I will treasure it always."

"As will I," she confessed. "I hope you find someone worthy of you now that you're going to be a normal man again. She'll be a lucky lady…and I know that from personal experience." Christine smiled wickedly.

"I shall return this evening for Dr. McCoy to examine me," he told her. "Meanwhile, I'm going home to get some sleep." Barnabas touched her cheek one last time after expressing one last wish. "I wish you every happiness, Christine." With that, he left, even as his heart screamed at him to stay, but knew he couldn't stand in her way, however painful it might be to let her go. He could only hope to find someone even half as good for himself at some undetermined point in the future.

She smiled after Barnabas and watched until he disappeared around the corner, then showered and dressed in preparation for the rest of the evening—and the inevitable questions, particularly Spock's, should he sense anything amiss.

To Christine's relief, the others, including Spock, were too occupied with Barnabas to concern themselves over much with her or what might have transpired between them on their date. Even at that, she considered it best to be ready when the questions did come—and they _would_ come, sooner or later, if only from Spock. So far the changeover was proceeding as intended, but McCoy sternly warned both Collinses that the regimen of one injection every three days _must _be followed faithfully or else. No one needed to voice the consequences of _that_ oversight, that was for sure…and both concerned declared that they would see to it that it never happened.

Once Barnabas had recovered and made his departure, Spock chose that time to approach Christine. When she heard his voice, she braced herself, telling herself that she was ready for anything Spock might say.

"Christine, may I speak with you?"

"About what?"

"About your date earlier today…and ours tomorrow. May we go somewhere to speak privately?"

"My room?"

"Acceptable."

With that, the pair went to Christine's room and she poured them each a glass of Altair water, similar to Terran mineral water, the two making themselves comfortable on her small couch, drinks at their elbows on the end tables. Once they were settled, Spock took a deep breath and said, "Was your—date earlier…enjoyable?"

She smiled and nodded.

"What did you do?" he asked carefully, forcing her to speak.

"We talked, listened to music, had a picnic—and incidentally, _he_ liked my cooking too," she finished quietly, taking a swallow of her drink so she wouldn't have to look at him.

Then she was quiet for so long that Spock sensed that she was concealing something. "Anything else?"

The silence lengthened even further before Christine spoke again…and when she did, her voice was so soft that even Spock's keen ears barely heard it.

"Yes."

"May I ask what else happened?"

"I—refused his marriage proposal. Would you like to know why?"

Spock nodded, hoping that it was for the reason he assumed.

"Because I told him that I…loved _you_."

This time the silence was on Spock's side, and nearly as lengthy as Christine's.

"Do you--truly mean that?" he finally forced out.

She reached to cover his hand with hers. "Of course I do. I always _have_ meant it and I always _will _mean it." Christine raised her hand to Spock's chin and brought his head up so that their eyes met. One look and Spock's question was answered, for now and all time. "How could you ever doubt me?" she asked. "I haven't been treating you right lately, I know, but I _do_ intend to make up for it now…if you'll let me. No matter how it may have seemed, I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. What more proof do you want?"

He set his glass aside and moved closer to her. "This," he returned quietly before once again gathering her into his arms and kissing her deeply and thoroughly. For a timeless moment, the entire world was blotted out by the warm honey of Spock's lips and the gentle strength of his embrace—but when she least expected it, he released her and gave her a questioning look, having seen the memories of her rendezvous with Barnabas in her mind.

"If you loved me, then why did you share physical love with Barnabas Collins… not only once, but twice?" His tone was soft but stern.

"The first time, I was so unsure of where I stood with you that I needed to have someone else affirm that I was an attractive woman. The second time, he asked me to do it in order that he would have something to remember me by. I have no intention of doing it again, however; you may be certain of that." The Vulcan looked at her skeptically until Christine said, "Do I need to prove that, too?"

Spock raised a hand to stroke her cheek with his fingertips, allowing himself a smile in her direction; his brown velvet eyes seemed to glow with warmth. "No, that is not necessary. I believe you."

Christine returned his smile. "Thank you." She then reached up to cover his hand with hers; he raised an eyebrow but did not remove his hand or snatch it away.

"What holovid would you like to see?" he asked.

"I'm sure that whatever you choose will be fine," she assured him.

"I wish to be certain that you will find my choice enjoyable," he gently insisted.

"As long as we're together, virtually anything would be enjoyable," she returned firmly.

"Indeed? Even something you ordinarily disliked?"

"In that case, you would at least…make it tolerable," she answered. "And if it was something I liked, your presence would make it even _more_ enjoyable."

"Then I assume you mean that you will accept anything I choose—but within reason," he replied.

"Of course," Christine affirmed.

"What kind of dinner would you prefer?" he inquired.

Christine shrugged. "Couldn't say for sure right now. I think I'll decide when we get there. Why do you ask?"

"Simple curiosity," he claimed.

"Then may I ask you the same question? Have _you_ decided what to eat yet?"

Spock looked almost sheepish. "I have not."

"Then we'll both decide at the same time," she determined. "Meanwhile, however…" The fingers of her left hand stroked the back of her companion's neck to make him shiver. "…we have bigger and better things to do," she crooned before moving to show him exactly how sincere her feelings for him were. After a few minutes, both had forgotten that there was anything in the world but the two of them.

The rest of the four weeks seemed to almost fly by; in that time, Barnabas improved so dramatically that he almost seemed like a different person—and said he owed it all to Kirk and company. That if it hadn't been for them, he would still be sleeping in a casket by day and stalking victims at night. Instead, he was eating regular food, sleeping by night and living in the daylight, just like any normal man.

"I wish you could all be here to see the beginning of my new life…my new _true_ life," he amended. "After all, it was all your doing."

"Not quite," McCoy countered. "I needed your friend Dr. Hoffman's notes and formula to do it. It was she who started your cure; I simply supplied the necessary ingredient to make its effects permanent."

"But I wouldn't be where I am today without you," Barnabas insisted.

"Unfortunately we've got to get back to the ship," Kirk told him. "Our time is up in three more days. I'll tell you what, though…we'll keep in touch, and Quentin will keep us up-to-date on your progress. Then as soon as we can after the two years are up, we'll come back to see how you're doing."

"I guess that is the best I can expect," Barnabas sighed. "And you make sure to let me know how all of _you_ are doing. Especially Christine and Spock. I want to be sure he's treating her right."

"I don't think you need to worry about that," McCoy chuckled. "Jim and I fully intend to keep a sharp eye on them."

"Do you agree, Christine?" Barnabas addressed her directly.

"Oh, you can count on that, I assure you. A hawk doesn't have eyes as sharp as theirs," she declared as she looked at Kirk and McCoy, then at Spock, with whom she was crossing fingers and exchanging surreptitious, tender glances.

Barnabas' eyes widened at the unusual gesture; Spock noted his reaction and opened his mouth to speak.

"It is a gesture between a couple who are both mentally and emotionally bonded to one another," he told his former rival. "It is a private matter, so I can tell you little more than that, except that we are closer than two Humans could ever be because of it."

Barnabas simply shrugged and smiled. "What matters is that Christine is happy." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her trying to get his attention. "Yes, Christine?"

"If you'd like to see us off, all you need do is come to the Inn's lobby, which is where we'll be beaming back to the ship from, at 1330 hours, you and Quentin, on Friday, November 27th. We'll even take holopictures if you like…and this time, Barna- bas will actually show up in the pictures!" Christine exclaimed happily.

Barnabas couldn't help wondering what 'beaming' was, but made a note to ask at the first opportunity after this.

"We'll be there," Quentin assured them before his cousin could draw breath for a reply. In a stage-whisper to the latter, he said, "We've got to go. It'll be our last chance to see them for God knows how long."

The older man finally acquiesced, even though he knew how painful it would be to say goodbye to Christine, not only knowing that she belonged to another, but that he would not see her again for a long time, if ever.

"Very well. We will be there."

The _Enterprise_ group was gathered in the Collinsport Inn lobby waiting for Barnabas and Quentin; finally, at 1310, the pair showed up. "We'll miss you," they said with equal sincerity. "You've done so much for Barnabas that 'Thank you' hardly seems like enough." The last was from Quentin alone.

"Just as we're going to miss _you_ both," Christine declared, embracing both Barnabas and Quentin with equal affection. "Both of you will always be close to us emotionally, no matter how far apart we are physically."

"Hey, you guys, if you want your pictures taken, get over here and get posed! We've only got a few minutes before we've got to be back aboard ship," the Doctor called.

The others hurried over to the rest of the group, Barnabas and Quentin posing with Spock and Christine first, then Kirk was with them while McCoy took the picture…then vice versa so everyone could get in on the picture-taking. Only a few moments later, Kirk's communicator sounded off; he flipped it open.

"Sulu here, sir. Ready to beam up?"

"More than ready," the Captain replied. "Energize, Mr. Sulu. Kirk out."

"Aye, sir. Sulu out."

Kirk flipped the communicator closed again, then turned to Barnabas and Quentin one last time.

"We shall never forget either of you. May you both live long and prosper," the Vulcan said with the traditional salute; the Humans who could echoed it, including Christine.

Their new friends couldn't do it, so they simply said, "Take care, all of you. All the best always, and we hope to hear from you as often as possible."

"Count on it," Kirk promised. "Goodbye, now." With that, the group dematerialized and were gone.

Barnabas stared at the empty space where the Starfleet group had been for at least five minutes after their departure, as if he could still see them there.

"We've got to get back to our apartment so I can give you your next injection, Barnabas," Quentin reminded him quietly. "Remember what Dr. McCoy said if we missed even one."

"I know," the older man replied softly. "I'm just being sentimental, that's all."

"I can understand, but we've got to get on with our lives, just as our friends have got to get on with theirs. Besides, we've got pictures of them and will be hearing from them periodically, so it's not as if they'll be gone permanently," Quentin reminded him even as the younger man smiled and nodded in empathy.

"Again, I know. It's just so hard to see them go. It will seem like an eternity before we'll see or speak with them again," Barnabas lamented even as the pair headed for their apartment down the street—and the rest of their (new) lives.

It took Kirk and Spock roughly a week to catch up on the backlog of paperwork once they returned to the ship, but if it hadn't been for the efficiency of Scott and Sulu, they would _never_ have gotten caught up. The matters the senior officers were attending to now were things that only the official Captain and Exec or Science Officer could do, so Scott and Sulu had to table it temporarily, then make sure Kirk and Spock attended to it ASAP. Also, since the mission on Earth was fairly short, the ship had been able to remain in orbit there and wait for the bulk of her command crew to return.

As for McCoy and Christine, it took them at least _two _to catch up—but together, they managed it. Thank God for efficient underlings! They'd never have made up the backlog otherwise. But it was the after-hours goings-on between Spock and Christine that reflected the greatest change. They now shared a larger quarters, being officially bonded, which constituted a marriage on Vulcan. The _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ was merely a formality they would deal with as soon as their duties and ship's missions allowed.

It wasn't until that evening that the now-loving couple were able to discuss the last month planetside. "Hard to believe the last month actually happened, you know, Spock? Seems more like something out of a holo-novel," Christine remarked as she snuggled close to Spock on their bed, her head on his chest as his cheek rested on top of her head. His arms were gently but securely around her, the warmth of his body radiating all through her as well.

"A most…unusual mission, to say the least," the Vulcan agreed. "But what matters is that all turned out well—and that we are together now, as we belong."

Christine looked up at her bondmate, scarcely able to believe that she'd heard him correctly, but knew that just by looking at Spock's expression that he was very serious.

"In that case, I can only hope that Barnabas will eventually find someone special now that he's getting back to normal. If anyone deserves happiness, he does," Christine observed.

"It is logical to assume that he will, _m'chejan_, but we can only hope for the best. In the meantime, we have to put the last several weeks behind us and get on with our everyday lives, then allow Barnabas and Quentin to do the same," the Vulcan stated matter-of-factly.

"I suppose so," Christine conceded.

"You do not regret your choice?" Spock asked his mate.

"No way," she returned firmly. "I'm finally where I've wanted to be for at least ten years…and will never want to be anywhere else as long as we both live."

"When do you wish to discuss the dual weddings?" he wondered.

"Tomorrow, my love. For now, let's just get some sleep."

With that, Christine tightened her arms round her bondmate and soon fell into a deep sleep; Spock did likewise shortly thereafter—and life went on pretty much as usual, at least for the _Enterprise_ crew, but _very_ different for the Collins cousins, who were now close friends of the former and who would remain so for as long as they all lived.

THE END


End file.
